


Tricky Like That

by Annehiggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Gabriel Trickster AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Trickster decides he more than 'likes' Dean during <em>Tall Tales.</em> It changes everything. An AU of the last few episodes of season 2 in which Gabriel is the Trickster. Always was, always will be. Despite AU status, this does contain some dialog from the eps or modified versions of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricky Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by **Teniboha**

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/anne_higgins/pic/00005k0s/)

**Then**

Religion was an interesting concept. In the collective history of the world, humans had never gotten anything completely right, so it was … bemusing that so many insisted they'd figured out the guiding force of the universe down to the smallest detail. Not that most of them agreed on even the big picture, let alone the minutia, but that sort of contradictory certainty was his bread and butter. So to speak.

To his mind, the Hindu concept of a universal spirit with many aspects/names probably came closest to the real deal, but hell, he was _part_ of that universal whatchamacallit, and he couldn't pin it all down, so he wasn't too big on handing out explanations. But when cornered – hey, it happened once a millennium or six – he'd grown fond of a sugary-baked-treat analogy. Present day he called it the 'Apple Pie Guide to Theology.' (And yes, he owned the copyright and was capable of far sneakier shit than a lawyer, so it never worked out well for the poor saps who tried to break it.)

Anyway, idea was The Big Whatever was like a big-assed apple pie – one so big no one could see the other side of, let alone eat it. Naturally, the solution was to cut a piece of a more manageable size -- which was really huge as far as he was concerned, because god here not to mention the original sweet tooth, but that was probably taking the whole metaphor thing too far. Anyway, once that pie hit the plate, humans could call it whatever they pleased, in the end it was still a piece of that cosmic-sized pie.

Sooooo, when someone needed pie to deal with someone else being a real douche who needed to be shown the utter error of his/her douchery in amusing, creative ways, he was the sliver they cut. Given the human tendency for this sort of douchiness, it shouldn't come as a complete surprise that he ended up part of every single ... bakery? Okay, analogy can only get even a god so far. To put a less sugary spin on things, when humans worshiped, they always created him. Even when they went all 'one true God' on the world's ass, some 'other' ended up with his less loveable traits.

Given this, it shouldn't surprise anyone that he had a shit-ton of names. His favorite was Loki, and he did prefer the Thor version of his storm deity sibling (fellow slice of pie?) to Zeus, who got really boring with all the 'wow, it moves, let me turn into something and fuck it' crap. Trickster worked, too, but after a time, so many little alternate splinters of himself -- Tarts to his pie? Caramel apple versus pure apple? -- started helping out with his massive workload that it got to be less of a name and more of a job description. Didn't really bother him since he was happy enough to go by whatever name the person invoking him had called on. Worked well. Until he met the soul.

Homo sapiens had been around all of a couple of decades when he encountered a child of about six as humans measured time in those days. He'd been flushed with the satisfaction of a 'trick' masterpiece that would have gone down in the annals of human history if the little buggers had invented writing yet. (For the record it involved a wooly mammoth, three kinds of poisonous insects and a newt – or what passed for one back then. Masterpiece. Really.)

In any case, he was in a great mood. And the girl's obvious delight at having witnessed the punchline of his trickery had made it even better – even if she couldn't write it down – and had him considering granting her three wishes or something even though that was totally someone else's job description. (And if she happened to wish for some way to record what she'd seen for all time. …) Instead she'd surprised him – and, by the way, that was very, very hard to do – by offering him a handful of berries. Sweet and ripe. The berries. Not the kid. He happily embraced his perverted nature, but she was six and even he had standards. So not Zeus. Anyway.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/anne_higgins/pic/00006erx/)

After they'd enjoyed her treat she smiled at him and asked his name. He gave her the local version – a monster of one that used up most of the local's verbal alphabet. Her nose wrinkled. Hey, he could hardly pronounce the stupid thing and he was a god, not a kid. Then it happened. She shook her head and said, "Gabriel."

He pondered it for a moment. She'd simply taken the most prominent sounds from what he'd told her and cobbled them together to create it, but, "I like it." Yeah, he liked it a lot. "My name is Gabriel."

So to recap, he was the very first Gabriel. Long before any stories about an angelic messenger from God showed up to excuse a meddling in human procreation that reminded him of Zeus' heyday, _he_ was Gabriel.

And the little girl? He never saw her again, but he encountered the soul's reincarnation once every century or so and always at the end of one of his tricks. They'd spend a few minutes admiring his handiwork, then move on. Always made it extra sweet, and he began to look forward to the meetings after the third time. But the funny thing about being _the_ Trickster? Didn't make him immune to the great whatever's sense of humor or the need for a cosmic-sized lesson or two to kick his ass. Go figure.

**Now**

"It all started when we caught wind of an obit. See a professor took a nosedive from a fourth-story window only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted."

Dean Winchester sat back and listened to his brother tell Bobby Singer what had led to the most irritating few days of their lives. Really had started with Sam still moping around about the hunter Meg had killed when she'd possessed him. It had been a slow few weeks of downtime while Dean's shoulder had healed from the gunshot wound, also courtesy of Meg, and another source of Sammy-angst. So when they'd stumbled on the obit along with a story about the haunting, Dean had jumped on the chance for a simple hunt to get Sam's head back into the game and out of his needless guilt-trip.

Yeah, simple. Just a typical 'haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator in the sewer' gig. Not to mention Sam developing the stones to mess with Dean's car. If he weren't so pissed, he might actually be impressed. But to Dean there was no higher crime. And the worst of it? He hadn't even taken Sam's computer to warrant the sacrilegious retribution.

He hadn't thought the bitch could get even more annoying, then exactly what Sam was telling Bobby sunk in. 'Feisty wildcat?' He didn't say shit like that. And she sure as hell hadn't said she had a sister! "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute."

"What?" Sam had the nerve to look surprised at the interruption.

"Come on, dude, that's not how it happened." Two could play at this embellishing thing and it was time for a little payback.

*

Okay, so he might have gone a bit too far this time. Gabriel walked back into his current 'home, sweet home' and stripped off his janitor overalls. He really hadn't intended for Professor Immorality to fall out the window trying to get away from Ghost Girl. Not that he was broken up about it or anything. The guy had been a dick of the worst kind -- well, a Zeus kind -- playing around on his wife with every wide-eyed ingénue he could seduce. Gabe snorted. At least the douche hadn't gone around turning into animals to do it.

He sighed and settled into his arm chair, then snapped up a glass of his favorite champagne. Wasn't often he miscalculated a victim's reaction. Worse, this time he'd caught the attention of hunters. Never should have used a haunting legend as his springboard. Or had it been a good thing?

 _The_ soul burned brightly in the body of the prettier of the two young hunters. He'd missed it – good two hundred years overdue for an encounter. But it kind of threw him to meet up with it in the body of an adult. Always been a kid before. Never older than ten. Had him paying more attention to his pursuers than he had in the past, and he quickly put a name to the green-eyed hottie. Dean Winchester. And his brother, Sam. He was not unfamiliar with the names.

Lots of whispers around his stomping grounds about those two. None of which pleased him since he felt sort of possessive of that particular soul. Loved seeing it sparkle with joy. Had sort of made him show off instead of lying low. Because, yeah, smart as those Winchester boys were supposed to be, he knew they would never figure out who was behind his tricks if he simply left well enough alone, but he couldn't resist doing the opposite and going all out. A slow-dancing alien for a hazing-frat jerk. One of his best even if it hadn't been one of his worthier targets. Still he liked for the trick to match up with the offense, and it had.

Knowing he'd tipped his hand with two of the best hunters out there, he'd started messing with them even as he'd done his best to impress Dean. In for a penny in for a pound cake, and he hadn't really seen the point of not going after his last target. Hated animal researchers and this one had been a particularly callus one. Had been. Yeah, he'd let the animal kingdom take its revenge in the guise of the 'alligator in the sewer' bit. Even gave the guy a way out. If he hadn't tried to get the fancy watch out of the grate, he'd have made it home safe and sound. But the guy hadn't been able to resist the bait and chow time. Nothing less than poetic justice as far as Gabriel was concerned, but a pair of goody-good hunters weren't likely to see it that way. He knew he should move on soon. Tonight would be even better, but he told himself the Winchesters would come after him and he didn't want that, so he picked up his copy of _Weekly World News_ and started looking for inspiration.

*

"Oh, damn, uh, I forgot something in the truck. You know what? I'll catch up with you guys."

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Wasn't like Sammy to be so wooden about delivering a line, but he guessed they were both pretty off balance after spending days biting each other's heads off. In any case Janitor Guy seemed to have too big a … sex hangover to notice so no harm, no foul.

Sam headed back to the 'truck,' while he and Janitor went on to the third floor. Little brother seemed to get some of his game back because Dean heard the sound of the front door opening before Sam would have headed down to the basement to search Janitor's locker. Damn, he really should have asked the little guy's name, but now it would be awkward. Especially since he thought he might have already told him, but Dean hadn't heard him if he had. Like he said. Awkward.

Dean had no real doubts Janitor was their Trickster, but staking a guy without proof wasn't a good idea. Besides, when they'd gotten back to the street, his baby's tires had been refilled without any signs of rim damage and Sam's laptop had been sitting on the front seat in equally good condition. Made him feel a little less homicidal. Not to mention, Impala-molesting aside, he kind of liked the demi-god's sense of humor. 'More ass than a toilet seat.' Heh.

Janitor grinned like Dean had done something to please him. Kind of strange given he was just walking around pretending to check offices for DSL hookups. Had to admit he liked the little guy's grin. Made a pleasant face downright handsome, and no, he was not going to go there when he might possibly be with one of the 'things that go bump in the night' that could read minds. Or something like that. Maybe Tricksters just had super powers of observation.

He poked around the offices for a few minutes, giving Sam some time, making the sort of noises he figured a DSL installer would and listened to the dude talking about his wild time last night. Threesome. "Sounds awesome," he muttered, shifting as his jeans tightened. Hadn't been with anyone since before Dad died, hadn't really felt like it despite putting on a show or two for Sammy's sake. Nothing new in that. Dean didn't have half as many conquests as he'd led Sam to believe, but all that moral indignation kept his little brother from noticing when Dean slipped off with another guy. It wasn't that he believed Sam would think less of him if he knew Dean was bisexual, but, as his story to Bobby about the bar had indicated, he had a pretty low opinion of Dean's sex life as it was.

Besides Dean struggled with it himself. Especially since he loved getting fucked. Didn't fit with his world view of himself, and he might have to kill Sam if his little brother got all emo and supportive over Dean's 'sexual crisis.' No thanks. So he'd decided to keep his secret until if/when it somehow became important for anyone to know. Dad had died before that could happen, and Dean figured he was next. Might as well let Sammy cling to what he thought he knew about his big brother.

A thoughtful look crossed Janitor's face, and Dean reminded himself he hadn't wanted to go down that road with the possible-probably-Trickster right next to him. At the same time he found himself thinking the dude had really nice eyes. Not his usual type – one-night stands tended to be shallow, looks-based pick-ups, but the more he was around the guy, the more Dean liked him. Sort of had him thinking the whole another time/place thing. And yeah, seriously enough of that. Where the hell was -?

"Sorry it took me so long," Sam said walking into the office.

"Timing's perfect, dude," he said making his tone sarcastic when it was a pretty heart-felt sentiment. "I'm done here." He turned to Janitor, "Thanks for the help."

"Any time," he answered with another one of those smiles that were starting to make Dean's toes curl. Damn, he wished he didn't like this dude's style so much.

He and Sam headed out, falling into the argument they meant to be overheard with Sam ordering him not to go in alone. All while a big part of Dean hoped Janitor wouldn't fall for it and get the hell out of here before they had to stake him.

*

Gabriel watched the argument between the brothers and couldn't help thinking 'how cute.' Because trying to trick the Trickster? Sort of like trying to out-shoot Artemis with a bow. Doomed to epic levels of failure. Still, if Sam wanted to pretend to stalk off and leave Dean to his tender mercies, well, Gabriel couldn't see complaining about it.

He smiled and moved toward the auditorium. This called for something nicer than the dingy offices upstairs. And the big room would be perfect for both setting the mood and the climatic scene of this little dramedy. Pun totally intended. He hoped.

*

Dean waited a few minutes until after the sun had set before announcing, "Screw this," and heading inside Crawford Hall on his own. He searched for a couple of minutes, not finding Janitor, and he dared to hope the dude had split. Then music caught his attention leading him to the auditorium.

Oh, wow. Two gorgeous women sat on a big round bed right out of some cheesy Casa Erotica flick -- red valor comforter and disco ball included. They did their best to lure him up there, and even if his libido had sort of decided it wanted a walk on his own side of the street, it was tempting. But no.

"They're a peace offering," the voice came from behind him and Dean turned to see Janitor sitting a few rows away. Damn, he'd hoped they'd been wrong, even though he'd figured they weren't. "I know what you and your brother do. I've been around awhile. I've run into your kind before."

He sighed, then smiled. Hard not to around the guy. "Well, then you know that I can't let you just keep hurting people."

"Come on!" He tilted his head back like he was appealing to the heavens or something, then turned his attention back to Dean. "Those people got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards. But you and Sam, I like you. I do. So treat yourself. Long as you want. Just long enough for me to move on to the next town."

Damnit that was what he was supposed to do while Dean had pretended to wait for Sam. Now it was too late. "Yeah, I don't think I can let you do that."

"I don't want to hurt you. And you know that I can."

"Look, man, I gotta tell you. I dig your stuff. I mean I do," he said glancing at the gorgeous ladies. "And the slow-dancing alien." It was hard not to do the Italian-kiss-the-tips-of-the-fingers thing. Cause it had been beyond awesome.

They shared a chuckle. "One of my personal favorites."

"But I can't let you go."

"Too bad." Janitor … Oh, hell, the Trickster stood up and the music stopped. So did the movement of the disco ball while the lovely ladies simply vanished.

Dean's skin tingled in a not unpleasant way, but he couldn't think of it as a good thing. "What did you do?"

Trickster shrugged. "Stopped time. Thought we could talk for a few minutes without Sam and the old guy listening in."

Crap. He pulled the wood stake out of his jacket and slipped into a fighting stance.

"And that would be the first thing we need to talk about." He slowly moved toward Dean. "It won't work."

"I'm pretty sure it will." Lore had been very clear on that point.

"Oh, sure, it'll work on _a_ Trickster. But I'm afraid I'm _the_ Trickster. Makes me 100 percent immortal." He paused a moment. "Well, I suppose it might work if you could make every single person in the world stop believing in me, but I've always been pretty popular, so good luck with that."

Sounded depressingly like the truth, but taking the guy's word for it seemed like a bad idea, so the moment he stepped within range, Dean plunged the stake right into his heart.

Bitch didn't even say ow. "You satisfied?" he asked, not looking at all bothered by the big-assed piece of wood currently making itself at home in his chest.

"Damn." He gave him a sheepish look. "Don't suppose this is when you let me go?"

"Pretty much," he answered, pulling out the stake and letting it fall to the floor. "Just one thing I want to do first."

Dean didn't really like the sound of that. "What?"

Didn't even see the guy move. One moment he was two feet away, the next he was right in Dean's space, drawing his head down for … a kiss? What the hell? His instincts screamed to pull away, but damn, it was a good kiss and he couldn't quite make himself break it. Or the second one. Even sort of whimpered when the Trickster drew back instead of giving him a third.

"Give you any ideas, gorgeous?"

Several. All of them bad.

"I've got a suggestion. That bed. My cock. Your ass."

Dean did the sort of whimper again – been way too long since he'd gotten horizontal with anything other than his own right hand.

Trickster seemed to take that as agreement because in the blink of an eye they were both naked and stretched out on the bed. Dean's heart began to pound, but he kept his voice light as he said, "Whoa, easy there, tiger. Maybe I'm not that kind of boy."

To his surprise the dude didn't get angry or attack. Instead he propped his head on his hand and smiled. "Your call. Never been the 'rape the mortals' kind of god."

Dean noted the absence of the 'demi' part of Bobby's description. Supposed it didn't fit one who could put 'the' in front of his name. Meant he was lying in bed with a freaking god. And one who, against all stereotypes to the contrary, seemed willing to take no for an answer. Thing was, Dean really didn't want to say no. "We do this, what happens after?"

"Personally? I like to snuggle."

Dean scowled.

"All right, all right. Hold the death glare. Once we get out of this bed; you, me, Sam and the old guy play out my death scene just like you planned. You all split, then I take off in the opposite direction."

"And you go back to hurting people."

Trickster rolled his eyes. "Fine, you big baby, I'll make certain no one suffers any permanent damage from now on. Happy?"

Not really, but he knew he wasn't going to get a better deal. "Peachy," He answered and drew Trickster in for another kiss. Guy kept with the 'your call' plan, making Dean pull him closer until Trickster rested on top of him while they explored each other with mouths and hands.

Dude had skills and soon Dean wanted more. His legs parted and lifted to nestle along side Trickster's torso. Earned him a grin as a tube of lube appeared in Trickster's hand. And Dean was really getting tired of thinking of him by that name. Kind of lost track of that thought as the first finger slid into him. Felt so damned good. He moaned and squirmed as one finger became two, then three. "Dude, enough," he panted. "Get in me."

"All ya had to do was ask, baby."

Trickster shifted and Dean's eyes widened as an unexpected girth and length entered him. Shouldn't be surprised. No reason to expect anyone, especially a god who could zap up anything at will, to be proportional. Not only did Trickster have an impressive piece of equipment between his legs, he quickly proved he knew how to use it with skill. Within moments he had Dean writhing, begging for him to move harder and faster all while each thrust took him higher and higher. When he tumbled over the edge, he kind of blacked out for a second, and when he got his head back in touch with his body, he discovered, Trickster hadn't been kidding when he said he liked to snuggle afterwards. "Why do I have to be the little spoon?" Dean whined. He was like eight-feet taller than Trickster.

"Because I'm the god and you're not."

Oh, hard to argue with logic like that. "So…"

"Nap time."

Nap? He glanced toward the doors Sam and Bobby lurked behind. Made him blush even though he knew they couldn't hear or see anything.

"Don't worry, we can stay here for years, and I can still bring us back within one second after we left."

Such was the life he led, that wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever heard a lover say, so he shrugged, and went to sleep.

*

Gabriel slid back inside Dean for what he figured was the last time. Part of him wanted to stay in this bed for at least a year or two, but he already had the feeling he'd spent too much time with this one. Attachments did not go well with the job description.

Dean moaned his appreciation, a sound that started with 'Tr' then ended with a scowl. "What the hell is your name?" He demanded, looking adorably annoyed.

Deciding laughing might not be the best response under the circumstances, he tried to answer, "Trick-"

"Dude! You've got your cock shoved up my ass! For the eighth time! I'm not calling you Trickster."

Damn. He was reasonably certain his pretty human hadn't a clue about what it meant for a god to reveal a true name, and he could certainly make up one or use one given to him through the ages. Heck, he even liked Loki. Had a good ring to it. But when he opened his mouth, somehow the truth spilled out, "Gabriel." Shit. Ah, well, maybe it wasn't as big a deal to tell his name to the soul who'd named him in the first place. Or was it an even bigger deal?

"Gabe," Dean sighed. "Suits you."

Gabe? He paused mid-stroke and stared into green eyes. He gives this human the gift of his true name, and he shortens it? Then again, he did kind of like it.

Dean glowered and nudged Gabriel's ass with his feet. "Move, damnit."

Feisty wildcat. Had to love that. So he moved, until he brought them both to a climax in the same moment. Sweet. And no one appreciated sweet as much as he did. He kissed and nuzzled Dean through the after shocks, then with a sigh he did what he'd said he would, and put them back where they'd started. Clothes and all.

Gabriel picked up the stake and held it out to Dean.

"Gabe. …"

"Deal's a deal, gorgeous. Gotta play out our parts." He gave Dean one last kiss then went back to his seat. The girls reappeared, the disco ball began to move and he repeated his last line, "Too bad." And on with the show, "Like I said, I like you. But Sam was right. You shouldn't have come alone."

Dean gave him a regretful look, then forced a smile. "Well, I'll agree with you there."

And cue dramatic entrance by brother and father-figure. Just to make things interesting, he whipped up the Texas-chainsaw massacre wannabe. He kept the new arrivals busy while the girls dealt with Dean. Didn't take long before momentum and luck put Dean in the perfect position to end this.

He stood up, creating a copy of himself even as he dissolved into his spirit self. "Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, I did not want to have to do this," his double said at the same time Sam threw a stake to Dean.

His boy followed through, sending the stake plunging deep into his double's chest. "Me neither."

Unlike the original, the copy showed pain and an artful trickle of blood oozed out of his mouth. Good moment to exit stage right on chainsaw guy and the girls. Dean pulled out the stake, and Gabriel's 'body' fell back into one of the chairs.

He watched as Dean made certain Sam and Bobby were okay, then Dean looked out over the chairs, "I gotta say, he had style." And scene. Except that's where the great 'love him and leave him' plan fell apart. To be more specific, the leaving part.

The Winchesters and old guy, all right, all right, Bobby Singer, headed out of town. Gabriel went the other way. For all of a few minutes or eight, then he swung around and followed. He told himself a lot of things – bored, no real destination in mind, no ripe victims lined up – but the truth was that beautiful soul belonged to him, and for once he found himself unable to leave it behind.

*

Dean let himself back into the hotel room almost sick with relief. Would have been just their luck if they'd had to kill the first woman Sam had really reached out to since losing Jessica Moore. Watching the sun come up without Madison wolfing out during the night had officially made it the best all-nighter he'd ever pulled, and he'd had quite a few memorable ones.

Didn't even matter the punchline involved Sam making some lovely new memories instead of him. In fact, given how down Sammy had been, it made it even better. And Dean, well, he could use some sleep. "Well, hello, gorgeous."

Dean froze for a moment and stared at the naked god in his bed, then asked, "What happened to the 'you head one way, I'll go the other' plan?"

Gabe shrugged. "I got bored. Now, you coming to bed or what?"

He knew he should say 'or what.' A one-off encounter had been bad enough, but encouraging more seemed like an extremely bad idea. But damn, that one-off had been good. Dean sighed and toed off his boots. "Should I be terrified or flattered to have a god as a stalker?"

"Two parts one three parts the other," Gabe answered, his eyes never leaving Dean's body as he stripped. Sort of like he was a king-sized candy bar for Mr. Sweet Tooth. Yeah, terrifying and flattering covered it real well.

Didn't stop him from joining Gabe between the sheets or sighing with pleasure when the god pushed into his body. Damn, he was such a moron.

*

This was bad. Very, very bad. Gabriel lay on the bed spooned up behind Dean while the human slept. Should leave now. No reason to stay, none at all. And he had places to go, people to show the errors of their ways to with his own special brand of irony. His life's work – hell, his entire reason for existing awaited. Yet, he couldn't quite find the will to disburse and move on. Instead he continued to hold Dean tight. But not too tight. Hugging him, petting him, squeezing him, and calling him -- "Um, Gabe?"

"Shhh, George, I'm trying to think."

A moment then Dean proved how similar their minds worked by saying, "I am not a bunny rabbit."

Gabe smiled against Dean's shoulder. "Ah, a fellow Loony Toons aficionado."

"Yeah, well, Samantha would go all 'it's from _Of Mice and Men'_ on you, but I always liked the Abominable Snowman's delivery better. Steinbeck was so freaking depressing." He let Dean turn in his arms so he could look into those beautiful green eyes. "So, what happens now? You gonna keep popping up when Sammy ditches me?"

"Would that bother you?" Be nice if one of them had a good answer to that question. Because Gabriel hadn't been this confused since his fling with Kali eight millennia ago, and he seriously hated to think about how that had turned out. Their respective forms of chaos had seriously _not_ played well together. Could he even begin to hope a hunter and one of the 'things' that sort tended to hunt could do better?

"I'm … not sure." So they were on the same page both literary reference and confusion-wise.

He sighed. "So I guess the question is do I keep popping up or stay away until at least one of us is sure?"

Before Dean could answer a frantic pounding on the door interrupted them and Sam's voice called, "Dean! Dean!"

Dean jumped out of the bed and ran for the door, probably not even noticing Gabriel had mojoed Dean's clothes back on before vanishing from sight, along with any evidence he'd been there. But Gabriel didn't leave immediately. Instead, disembodied, he hovered long enough to get the gist of the problem. The woman they were trying to help – Madison – had transformed into a werewolf again. Well, duh, there was no cure for that. Even he didn't know of one besides death and a new incarnation.

His curiosity soothed he should have taken off. Not his problem and all that. But what upset Sam, upset Dean, and Gabriel found he didn't like that. And it wasn't hard to tell this story would end with one of them having to shoot the damsel. Not to mention Sam with a steady galpal meant more brother-free time for Dean. No use in denying Gabriel had a vested interest in brother-free time.

Satisfied with his personal motives, he left. It didn't take him long to find her. Sure it was a big city, but he was a type of chaos god, and her mind definitely had that chaotic vibe. She was in a phone booth ten miles from the hotel. No doubt about to call her knight-in-shining denim. Gabriel wondered if it had even penetrated her thoughts that Sam would also have to be her executioner.

She'd punched in one number when he appeared beside her and said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Madison let out a strangled scream and dropped the receiver as she whirled around. Her exotic eyes wide, she whispered, "Who are you?"

As ever the answers to that numbered in the thousands, but he went with the one she was most likely to know. "Loki."

Given the radical shift her world-view had needed to take during the last few days, it didn't surprise him when she asked, _"The_ Loki?"

He nodded then to prove it as well as give them a place to talk uninterrupted, he popped them both off to a place he kept in Colorado. Had a lovely view of the Rockies from the living room picture window, and for several minutes all she could do was gape and stare. Finally she came back to herself enough to ask the $64,000 question. "Can you cure me?"

"No, no one can," he answered, but before she could fall apart he added, "But I can give you control."

"Control?"

"Over the where and when of the transformations. And of your mind when it happens."

"So I wouldn't kill anyone else?" Her voice was small as if crushed under the weight of those she'd already killed.

He shrugged. "Not unless you want to." In his experience it seldom took anything as dramatic as a werewolf-curse to turn any sentient-being into a killer.

Tears filled her eyes. "But how do I live with knowing I've already killed?"

To that he had no answers, so he stood there with her while she stared at the view and tried to figure out how the rest of her life should go. Or if it should continue at all.

*

They'd been searching for two hours when Sam's cell rang. "Madison?" he breathed into the phone as Dean pulled over so he could keep an eye on his brother instead of the road.

For some reason Sammy pushed the speaker button and Dean heard her answer, "Sam."

"Where are you?"

"I … I'm going away. I've got a lot of thinking to do before … the next full moon."

"Let me help," Sam pleaded, and it about broke Dean's heart, but if she ran away, neither of them would have to shoot her. He couldn't help but be grateful for that.

"No. I mean, I want to, but I need to sort things out myself. Goodbye, Sam."

They kept looking, of course, but in the end, Sam let Dean drive them back to the motel and put Sam to bed. Once his brother was sleeping Dean slipped out the door and into the night. "Gabe?" he whispered.

"You called?"

Dean yelped and whirled around to glare at the god who had appeared behind him. "Warn a guy, next time."

Gabe grinned. "What would be the fun in that, Deano?"

He glared for another moment, then, reminding himself he probably owed Gabe quite a lot, he softened his expression. "Did you help Madison?"

"Yeah," he sighed with what looked like a disbelieving shake of his head. "Gave her control of the transformations and took the 'spread the curse' element out of her bite. She gets her head together she'll make a kick-ass hunter. But. …"

"She's a nice lady and she killed at least three people." Hadn't heard what happened last night after she got away from Sam, but odds were there was at least one more body to add to the total.

Gabe nodded. "I gave her a safe place to think about things and to practice wolfing-out. Rest is up to her, but I think she can handle it."

"And if she doesn't want to?" Knowing his father had sacrificed his soul for him had all but destroyed Dean, he couldn't imagine waking up one day to find out he'd killed civilians, especially when only one probably got what was coming to him. Stalkers really creeped Dean out. Except his own, and he wasn't sure how that worked.

"I'll make it quick and painless."

Stunk, but at least Sam wouldn't have to do it. Or have to live with knowing Dean had. "Thanks, Gabe." He gave him a quick kiss, then said, "I'd better get back to Sammy. See you around?"

Gabe smiled slightly. "Until one of us makes up his mind, yeah." He disappeared, and Dean went back to the room to watch Sam sleep.

Didn't last long. After a few hours Sam woke back up and insisted they go back to Madison's to look for clues to where she might have gone. Dean knew there wouldn't be any, and he felt like a real jerk not telling Sam the truth, but revealing that the Trickster had whisked her away would lead to a whole lot of questions about how exactly was the god still alive and why would he help them anyway. He wasn't ready to admit all those truths, and he couldn't really see how the news an old foe turned Dean's lover had taken Madison away would give Sam much comfort.

Instead he let Sam hunt for her for a week, then pushed for the vacation they both desperately needed. The next morning they left for L.A. And what turned into yet another freaking case. So much for a vacation.

*

Gabriel watched the boys' Hollywood adventure with amusement. And not a little smugness when Dean turned down a chance to get one of his favorite starlets between the sheets. Yes, Gabriel was just that good. Had obviously ruined the boy for anyone else.

He found the prison hunt far less amusing. His human was far too pretty to have anything to do with a place full of men who made a habit out of not taking no for an answer. Well, easy enough fix. Although Dean looked the same to his brother, their lawyer and their dad's old Marine buddy, everyone else saw an ugly-ass tough guy no one wanted a piece of. At the last moment, he gave Sam a similar illusion just to make certain neither of them got any unwanted attention. Still let them get knocked around some under the heading of 'served them right.'

It didn't stop him from doing some repair work on their reputations. Really wasn't a difficult matter at all to wipe their records clean and destroy any evidence gathered against them. Hadn't needed to more than chat with Special Agent Henricksen and his partner to get them to swear off meddling in the crazy world the Winchesters inhabited. Okay, so maybe he appeared out of nowhere and mojoed up a few things while they talked, but it worked, so lollipops and candy canes for all.

Before he could claim his just rewards for his helpful manipulations, the boys headed for Illinois finding something hunter-noteworthy about a series of disappearances. His own paycheck to earn, metaphorically speaking, he went to work on a CEO, who thought sexually harassing his prettier employees was one of his job perks. But he kept one cosmic ear on the brothers.

"Nah, I'm sure it's nothing. I just want to take a look around." Gabriel was in the middle of the coup de gras of one of his better tricks if he did say so himself (it involved cameras, an irate wife, dildos and a donkey) when that little gem of Dean's penetrated his concentration. If those didn't come under the category of famous last words he'd eat the dildo. And the donkey.

Leaving things to take their course in Minneapolis, he headed for Illinois. Took him a few minutes to zero in on Dean and by the time he did, a djinn of all things had him in its glowing blue grasp. Still in spirit-form he reached out to interfere and got … distracted by the story the djinn was weaving. Fuck, even when his boy was about to get hurtled into fantasyland he still thought so little of himself the best he could come up with was everyone else got to be happy?

It was only a split-second hesitation, but it proved long enough to get him sucked into the dream vortex instead of disrupting it. To his disgust he realized if he broke free – something he could easily do, because, hello, god here -- he'd destroy Dean's mind. So he was in it for the full tour. Fine, at least he was going to make some changes. A lot of them.

*

A gray hand pulsing with blue energy reached toward him and Dean's eyes shot open. He sat up abruptly in bed and fought a sense of disorientation that left him dizzy and made his heart pound. "Baby, you okay?" a familiar voice said as an arm settled around his waist.

"Gabe," he sighed with relief, letting the smaller man pull him back down to the mattress and into his embrace. Felt rattled enough he snuggled close and let the rhythm of his lover's heartbeat slow his own.

"You were expecting someone else?"

A bald creep with a lot of black tattoos flashed through his mind, and he shuddered. "I … guess I had a nightmare."

"That's it, Winchester. No more _Creature Features_ before bedtime for you."

Gabe sounded more bemused than irritated, so Dean shifted up onto his elbow to look at him. "Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. "Don't know why you put up with me sometimes."

"Well, you are smoking hot. I think that has something to do with it."

Dean considered this. "I suppose that's fair since I only like you because you're dynamite in the sack."

They smirked at each other as if they both knew there was more to it than that, but Dean's mind whispered, no, that was it. But maybe not.

Gabriel rubbed Dean's arm. "Well, then I suggest you add your hotness to my dynamite and get busy making me forget you woke me up at 4:45 in the morning."

"I can do that." A few moments later he thought, 'God, I love it when he's inside me,' and a lot of his confusion ebbed. Whatever else was going on, he felt certain of that.

*

Gabriel cleaned up the hard way – in the shower with soap and water. Took forever, but it did the job well enough. And he didn't want to risk using his abilities here. It might attract unwanted attention. Not to mention it would mean drawing on a physical form that couldn't occupy the same space as Dean.

Dean. What to do about Dean. He wasn't entirely certain that telling him the truth this early in the game wouldn't hurt him, and he knew Sam would have run for the door the minute Dean had told him he could handle things on his own. Was it better to play along until Sam showed up to save the day? In the meantime Dean was likely to figure it out on his own and that usually worked out better in mindtraps like this one. He just hoped when the smoke cleared on this Dean would save his anger for the djinn and not lash out at him.

Pulling one of several $5,000 suits out of his closet, he dressed for work. He'd just finished adjusting his silk tie and stepping into his Italian leather shoes when Dean's arms wrapped around him. "Whenever I see you in your power suit, all I want to do is get you out of it and back into bed."

He smirked. "I like the way your mind works, beautiful, but I'm afraid someone has to make the money needed to keep me in the style I've grown accustomed to."

Dean pouted, looking rather edible in slacks, shirt and blazer himself. With a model's good looks the kid was born to wear nice clothes. Pity he went for the 'loose, flannel, layered' look. Gabe laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. "None of that, baby. I can hardly tell your parents you missed breakfast because I was having my way with you. John would have a heart attack."

Confusion flitted across Dean's face, and somewhere inside that gorgeous head Gabriel knew he was trying to remember both his parents were dead, but for now the djinn's power held, and he rolled his eyes. "Fine, but don't give me any crap about my parents. You just want to get to The Roadhouse and dive into a stack of pancakes with extra syrup."

"You forgot the chocolate chips."

Dean gave a mock shudder. "I don't know whether to be amazed by your metabolism or appalled."

"I'd go for amazed. Lets me keep up with my handsome young lover."

"In that case, I'll text Ellen and have her give you extra chocolate chips, too."

Gabriel laughed and drew him down for a kiss. "You're so good to me, now get going or you'll be late."

"Yes, sir," he answered heading for the door.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You forgot something," he said nodding toward the safe.

Dean gave him a puzzled look, then blinked and shook his head. "Damn, Gabe, you must have killed a few of my brain cells with that last orgasm," he said, opening the safe. A moment later he clipped his gold badge to his belt and slipped a Colt into his shoulder holster.

"My pleasure. Have a good day chasing bad guys, detective."

"And good luck in court to you, too, counselor."

Gabriel's smirked. "Got nothing to do with luck, kid. They don't call me the Trickster for nothing."

Another confused blink, then Dean gave him a fast kiss and called goodbye as he sailed out the door.

*

Dean pulled into the driveway of his childhood home then cut the Impala's engine. He knew he'd made this same early morning drive every Monday since he'd moved out, but at the same time it felt strange, and his heart was racing. Stupid. Just having breakfast with Mom and Dad. Nothing to get excited about. Well, nothing besides Mom's cooking. She was the best.

"You planning to sit there all morning, kiddo?"

He started at the deep voice, then gave his father a sheepish grin as he got out of the car. For some reason he moved in for a hug as if it had been forever since he'd last seen the man instead of all of three days ago when he'd 'happened' to drop by for spaghetti night while a late court appearance had kept Gabe occupied during dinner.

Dad hugged back after a moment, then patted Dean on the back. "You okay, son? That lawyer treating you all right?"

"Daaad," Dean chided, quietly amused. He'd been so scared to come out to his family after he'd finally met someone worth coming out for, but the only thing his father had ended up objecting to was Gabe's profession. He started to add 'Gabe loves me,' but couldn't get the words out, like he suddenly doubted they were true. God, this day was starting to freak him out.

"Sorry, sorry," his father said with a grin, holding his hands up in surrender. "Now come on inside before your omelet gets cold."

Dean practically rocketed inside while his dad laughed and followed. But damn, what Mom could do with eggs should be illegal. He burst into the kitchen, then stopped abruptly when he saw her. For a moment his mind flashed to her trapped on a burning ceiling and tears filled his eyes. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight without consciously thinking to do it.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked.

He shuddered trying to force the horrific image out of his mind and buried his face in her neck, drawing in her scent to chase away the imagined stench of smoke. He felt his father's hands on his shoulders gripping him, but not trying to pull him away.

"John?"

"I don't know … maybe we should call Gabe?"

"No, God, don't do that," Dean pleaded, doing his best to get himself together. "I'm sorry," he said, letting her go and allowing Dad to guide him to a chair at the table. "I just had this really weird, vivid dream last night. 's kind of got me rattled." He couldn't quite look up at them as he whispered, "Lost both of you."

"Oh, sweetie," Mom said, gripping his hand. "It's okay, we're both fine."

He blushed. "Feel like such an idiot."

"Don't," Dad said, ruffling Dean's hair. "We've all had at least one of those dreams, son. Just get some of your mom's cooking in your belly and let it go."

They did? Sounded more like something to make him feel less like a freak than the truth, but yeah, maybe breakfast would finally settle him down. Between the food and his parents being a little more touchy-feely with him than normal, it did seem to work. By the time Mom took his plate away he was laughing and joking around with them like always. Even if his stomach did give a funny lurch at the thought.

"Knock, knock," a familiar voice called.

"Come on in, Jo," Mary answered.

A smile on her face, Jo Harvelle walked into the kitchen. "Morning all."

Part of Dean's mind said she lived across the street with her mom, had grown up playing with him and Sam, and that she was his partner of three months. Another part whispered she shouldn't be there. Nothing about the wish should have made Ellen and Jo move to Lawrence. Wish? What wish? Damn, so much for his restored equilibrium. Soon as he got to the station and away from all-seeing Mom-eyes he was popping a couple of Tylenol. Maybe some low-grade headache was behind his mood.

"Would you like some coffee, Jo?" Dad asked holding up the pot as he finished filling his and Dean's – because Dad was awesome like that -- travel mugs.

"No thanks. Mom gave me my fix. Ready to head out, partner?"

"Yeah," he answered, getting up and kissing his mom goodbye. He and Dad exchanged manly claps on the arm.

"See you Saturday, son."

Saturday? What? "Oh, yeah," Jo said, "the big birthday party for Mary. Dean's been talking about it for weeks." He had? He didn't know if she was telling the truth or if she'd seen his distress, and, like a good partner, she had his back. Either way he was beyond grateful.

"Right, Saturday." At Chez Raul. He'd even bought a present. A good one. "At 7:30."

"Just remind that lawyer of yours, my wife, my party, my check." Dad's voice had a testosterone filled growl to it.

"He's cool with that as long as you let him buy the champagne," he answered, managing not to flinch at the memory of the 'discussion' he and Gabe had about his dad's macho need to pick up checks despite the differences between the incomes of a co-owner of an auto garage and the managing partner of the most successful law firm in the state. Dad was no slouch, but Gabe was rich. And not opposed to showing off. Ouch.

Dean gave his dad a hopeful smile, the one mirrored on his mom's face. How had he never noticed he looked like Mom? Must have hurt Dad to look at him sometimes. What? That was a bizarre thought. Why should it bother Dad that he took after Mom and Sammy took after Dad? "It's a fair compromise, John," Mom said.

"Guess it is," he answered with a slight scowl. Obviously still less than thrilled, but it was better than dueling checks at the restaurant. Been there, done that and did _not_ want the freaking t-shirt.

*

About a year per hour. Gabriel sat behind an ornate wood desk in front of a wall-sized window looking out over the city. Typical corporate version of a throne room, and, happily, he was the king of this particular kingdom. The glass door at the far end of the room led to his secretary's station and was emblazoned with the words _Gabriel Kaggen, Managing Partner._ The buck, as well as the big bucks, apparently stopped here. For the next year. At least.

What little he'd overheard of the Winchester brothers' conversation had him thinking Sam had not been close, and by Gabriel's calculations about one year would pass for every hour in the real world. Long time for Gabriel to stay in one place, play one role, but nothing about time to reflect had changed his initial impression that any attempts at using something more magical than a platinum charge card would damage Dean's mind. Not to mention he was fascinated with the whole thing.

He was a master of illusion – the solid, 'feels real' kind – but even he was impressed by the world building the djinn had forced Dean's mind into. Nothing as sloppy as 'didn't exist if Dean wasn't part of it,' at all. No, this version of the city of Lawrence had much the same vibe as the real one, with a host of individual stories going on that Dean would never even know about. Gabriel suspected it was indeed some sort of mirror image of the real thing with a few careful tweaks and additions. Sure, he'd made some changes on the trip here, but they'd been basic one-line script changes. The rest was purely the djinn's doing. If the damned thing could manifest this level of power outside of a victim's mind, it might be a real threat to even Gabriel's kind. Otherwise, well, it made Morpheus look like a slacker, having none of the disjointed, 'oh, look, a pink penguin' shit going on as was typical with a landscape created by the god of dreams.

"Hey, Gabe, you got a minute?"

He looked away from his window with a view and turned to see his newest associate standing in the doorway. "Sure. What's on your mind?" he asked, gesturing at what his mind suggested was Sam's favorite chair.

Sam Winchester sat down, and again Gabriel marveled at the details. Once upon a time Dean's brother had apparently wanted to be a lawyer, lawyers were tricky, Gabriel was the Trickster, Dean always wanted someone looking out for Sam so Gabriel became Sam's mentor and boss. Sam was too young for the position, but Dean's djinn-addled brain had come back with his little brother was scary smart, smart enough to skip a few grades if he wasn't getting bounced from school to school by their hunter-father and graduate law school around the time most would be picking up their undergraduate diploma.

"I'm having some trouble sorting through the Hollister documents. Company hit us with enough paper to wallpaper the entire city."

Information spilled into Gabriel's mind about the case and the firm. He smiled. Dean wanted Sam looked after and no longer alone. "Sounds like you need a good paralegal on your team. Madison's the best and she just finished up on the Champion depositions."

From what he had seen, the real Sam's eyes wouldn't have lit up any differently. Dean knew him so well, could get so much right, yet if Gabriel hadn't interfered, his pretty human would have created a version of Sam who didn't care for Dean beyond the most superficial demands of the title 'brother.'

Was he wrong about the soul? As dear to his heart as it had become, he could count the time he had spent in its presence by minutes. He sighed. Humans didn't understand souls. They spoke of goodness and bright white light, while evil turned it black. Yet white was the absorption of all colors; black, the rejection. A god could see more than that. And no human – the noblest or the foulest – had ever achieved a totality of color to a god's eyes.

What he had seen of Dean made him think of a man with a brave spirit and a need to help others, but his soul, like all souls, was flawed. Much of what Gabriel did was analyzing those flaws with the same intensity a jeweler gave a precious stone. And perhaps, unlike gems, those flaws were what gave a soul character, made it worth knowing. But there was a limit, a place between a lot and too many. That was where he normally operated. Using his powers to give a soul a swift kick in the proverbial backside to get it back on the 'interesting, but not a dick' path. Mostly. Sometimes, he couldn't help but prey on the 'not truly bad, but probably too much of a douche to help' rabble. Or even the flat out bad ones. Dean didn't remotely fall into either category. Or so he'd thought.

Had he been blinded by the soul's importance to him? Had he missed something, he couldn't hope to see now? Technically he'd been pulled into Dean's soul along with the man's conscious awareness. It was one of the reasons it played like reality versus the disjointed images of dreams, but it also kept him from seeing anything beyond what could be perceived with human eyes. Because here? Gabriel was all but human, and lucky he could remember he was not.

It bothered him more than he wanted to even consider he might have been wrong about Dean, to wonder if he should have drawn Dean into a trick instead of into bed. Settling on the cliché of gazing out at the city, he went over and over it in his mind. Finally he settled on the obvious. They'd spend what Dean would perceive as close to a year here at the very least. Time to get to know his boy. In other words, while playing through a reality where they were together, he'd have to date him. Damn, if Kali ever found out about this, she'd laugh her cosmic ass off.

*

Dean finished writing up the report on Constance Welch. Glad to wrap up the sad case even if it had only lasted a couple of days. Woman had lost it, drowned her two kids in the tub, then committed suicide by jumping off a bridge. Straight forward homicide with the perp already punished by her own hand. Sort of. He and Jo had done some poking around to make certain it really had been a murder-suicide versus three murders. Almost wish it had gone that way given her jackass of a husband got to walk away from the mess like some noble survivor of his wife's tragic insanity. Except if the bastard had managed to be faithful to her more than two days at a time, Dean would have been surprised. Had to have done wonders for her stability. He shook his head disgusted with the whole situation and more than grateful when he hit send, officially ending his involvement.

Had time to finish off the coffee in his travel mug and consider the wheres and whens of his next 'fix' before Captain Singer stuck his head out of his office and bellowed, "Winchester! Harvelle!"

Dean and Jo bolted to their feet and scurried into Bobby's office. The man might have been Dean's godfather and Jo's step-father, but he never played favorites at the office --except maybe by being a touch harder on them – so they snapped to with more speed than most. Didn't really change the fact neither of them should probably have been allowed to serve in his department, but they'd both earned places in Major Crimes, so the 'powers that be' had turned a blind eye to the family and pseudo-family ties. Still kind of odd as he thought about it.

"I botherin' you, Winchester?"

Dean started, then blushed. Head had got stuck on the damnedest things all day and refused to stop no matter how hard he tried. Maybe Jo was right and he needed a vacation. Maybe Gabe could … and fucking hell, he was doing it again. "Sorry, Captain."

Bobby glared, making him sweat for a few moments before he muttered, "Idjit." The insult was pure godfather stuff and let Dean know he was forgiven, or maybe Bobby had decided to join the growing hordes of those worried about why he was acting so weird. "Now that I have your attention, park service has got some missing hikers and has asked for some help. You two know your way around the back country, so consider yourselves rangers for the day and get gone."

"Yes, sir," they answered at the same time, then made for the Impala. Took about forty-five minutes to reach the woods outside of town -- _Blackwater Ridge. Colorado. Rockies_ \-- coordinate with the rangers, then head out in search of Tommy Collins and his friends, Brad and Gary.

Dean zoned in and out all day, caught up in how the ground felt wrong, the mountains too high. His brain almost exploded when they stumbled on the remains of a camp, and good old Ranger Roy announced it looked like a grizzly had torn it up. _Black bears in Kansas, not grizzlies._ Damn it, why did his mind keep insisting things were off? They stumbled across the three young men fifteen minutes later. All badly mauled, but Brad and Gary were still breathing. Tommy wasn't. First aid, air vac, and it was over.

Ranger Roy shook their hands, thanked them for all their invaluable help and showed them back to their car. Invaluable? Dean almost snorted. Freaking lucky everyone hadn't ended up looking for his 'head lost in the clouds' ass as well as Collins. Not even Jo seemed to have noticed he really wasn't with it, though. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought? Why couldn't he shake the idea it was even worse?

Never so grateful in his life to see a day end, he dropped Jo off, then went home. Almost burst into tears when he walked through his own front door and found the penthouse empty. Hand actually shook when he pulled out his cell phone. Made it fucking hard to text, but he managed 'where u.'

A second later his phone rang. "Gabe?"

"In the car on my way home so no texting for me." Thank God for Blue Tooth. "Be there in twenty or so."

The sound of his lover's voice grounding him like nothing had all day, Dean didn't sign off like he normally would have. Instead, he asked, "How was your day?"

There was a pause like Gabe knew he should be hanging up now, but then he said, "Decided to let Madison help Sam on his case. Cute how smitten he is."

Gigantor and cute hadn't computed in Dean's head since Sammy got out of diapers, but he still grinned. "He got a shot?" Be nice to see Sam dating again. Hadn't gone out since Jessica Moore had dumped his ass for being a 'secretive bastard.' And how that had gone down Dean didn't know. Sam tended to be more the over-share than under-share type, and secrets? Dude couldn't keep one to save his life. Not with people he really cared about at least. And Dean had always figured that said it all about their great romance.

"Good one, I think. She's kind of smitten, too. Besides they can bond over what a slave-driver they have for a boss."

Dean smirked. "You in a masterful mood today, Gabe?"

A chuckle answered him. A fairly filthy one. "Always, especially when inspired by that fine ass of yours."

His hole clenched, and his cock twitched at the promise in those words, but there was a far deeper truth in his answer, "I need you."

"I know, baby. I'll be there soon." Voice felt almost like a gentle caress. "Now, what else can I tell you without risking the 'oh, so important, client privilege' thing? Hmm. Oh, yeah, Louis was a self-important ass today."

Normally he would have rolled his eyes, and he managed the no-doubt expected, "What else is new?" but he sank onto the sofa grateful beyond words that Gabe really did know how he needed him. Still made him feel like a big twelve-year-old girl.

Gabe kept talking, his words making Dean 'see' the junior partner's latest distasteful antics almost more clearly than if he'd been there to witness them himself. Was why Gabe was such a great lawyer – he could invoke such vivid images that juries fell all over themselves sympathizing with his clients. This time, he even got Dean laughing despite his weird mood.

"So that was my day," Gabe finished up. Two clicks sounded – one as the phone shut off and the other as the door opened. "How was yours?"

Dean did _not_ fly across the room and into his arms like some heroine in a sappy chick-flick. He walked. Got him where he wanted to be slower than he liked, but with some claim left to random scraps of dignity. Although he might have lost those when he half-sighed, half-kind-of-whimpered when he felt those arms close around him as he drew in the feel and smell of his lover.

Gabe didn't push for details. He simply held him for several minutes, until his closeness finally made Dean murmur about needing him in a different way. Then it was bedroom, clothes flying, mattress against his back, slick fingers probing, and paradise. More than once as Gabriel took him, Dean tried to push up, to take control, but nothing doing. Strong hands kept him pinned and helpless, so all he could do was take what Gabriel gave him. Just like Dean craved. Of all the things that had happened during the day, this physical dominance by a man he should have been able to throw across the room with one hand tied behind his back, seemed like the first brush with reality he'd had since morning.

*

The next day a wake-up fuck, a dirty call bordering on phone sex, then a rather enthusiastic 'missed you' session when they both got home seemed to keep Dean more grounded. At least he acted less like he feared he was losing his mind. Gabriel decided to catch a clue there and made keeping his boy sexed-up and satisfied a priority. Hey, wasn't like he _really_ had a law firm to run. Or like he was a real lawyer. Had simply seemed like a 'human' thing he could do, so he followed the script Dean's sub-consciousness fed his – he recognized more than a few television plots along the way – and let everyone tell him he was brilliant while paying him obscene amounts of money. Eh, it was a living.

Friday, he put 'operation: date' into action and whisked Dean off to a baseball game at cop-Dean's alma matter, University of Kansas. Fit with what Gabriel knew of the man – smart enough to go anywhere, but too wrapped up in family to stray far from home even when other universities in more exotic locations beckoned. Unlike Sam. Here or out there. Clue there.

"I used to play for them," Dean said as the Jayhawks walked onto the field, but his tone had a near question in it, and for a moment Gabriel thought he'd miscalculated. Yes, he wanted Dean to figure out the truth, but he also didn't want him pushing too hard, too soon.

Gabriel made a vague 'yes, I know' sound, then added, "Left fielder, wasn't it?"

Dean nodded slowly, and Gabriel wondered if the kid even knew what a left fielder did. He doubted there'd been much time to even watch baseball when Dean was growing up, let alone play it. Interesting he hadn't imagined himself playing something more well-known to all like the pitcher or catcher. Nor had he gone the MVP or super-star route. The Dean of this reality had played a solid game – good enough for some scholarship money, but nothing spectacular, and not once in the vague implanted memories did he find the 'won the ball game single-handed' moment most boys dreamed of.

He had to fight to keep from shaking his head. Here was someone hundreds of people across the country considered a hero at least on the same level as the Lone Ranger, and he didn't even have a starring role in his own fantasy life. Would have seriously depressed him, but after the first few moments of confusion, Dean fell into watching the action with the same delighted wonder of any kid at his first live-ballgame. Hard not to be enchanted.

When the Jayhawks got the final runner out at the bottom of the ninth for the win, Dean turned to him with big eyes and whispered, "Can we do this again?"

A pleasant warmth coiled through Gabriel, and he promised, "Every home game for the rest of the season."

Dean caught himself before crossing the line into a squeal of joy, but it was obviously a close thing. Instead he gave Gabriel a big hug and kiss right in the middle of the stands. Yeah, hard not to be enchanted. Impossible to fight falling in love.

*

After the best night of his life – and that didn't even count the awesome sex later – Dean woke up Saturday morning with a smile on his face. Earned him a kiss, then another. Led to stuff, and a day pretty much spent in bed until it was time to get ready for Mom's party. Occasion and location called for suits. Didn't mind wearing one as much as he had back before he'd broken down and let Gabriel spend the equivalent of several month's worth of Dean's salary on one for him. Little noose around his neck – he didn't care if was silk and looked classy, it was still a freaking noose – aside, it felt nice against his skin, and he really liked the gleam Gabe got in his eye whenever he looked at Dean in it. Only thing that got his lover hotter was when Dean wore a tux. Didn't have many opportunities to do so, but the aftermaths were always memorable.

Unlike him, Gabe practically lived in a suit, but he put on his best and looked good enough to eat. "Keep watching me like that and we'll be late for the party," Gabe warned as he adjusted his tie.

Dean snorted. "Right, like either of us can get it up again."

Gabe smirked. "What can I say, beautiful?" he said, pulling Dean into his arms and close enough to feel the swell of his semi-hard cock. "I find you inspiring." He began nibbling on Dean's neck, threatening a deeper pressure despite the 'no hickies on parents' night' rule. "Maybe I should fuck you again, then stuff a plug in your ass to keep you wet and ready for when we get home."

A whine rumbled through Dean's throat while his face heated to indicate a blush bright enough to rival a stove burner on high. Didn't even want to resist when Gabe pushed suit parts out of the way, bent him over the ruin of their bed, then made good on his threat. Plug and all. Dean's only consolations were that he was too fucked out to have a hard on all through dinner and he'd finished blushing as well as gotten used to the plastic in his ass before they'd reached the restaurant.

His parents were already there, and Dean found himself stopping short as they followed the hostess to the table. Wanted to blame the plug in his ass, but it had a lot more to do with the lump in his throat. Gabe didn't say anything. Instead he rested his hand on Dean's lower back and patiently waited. "She looks so beautiful," Dean whispered, watching Mom laugh as she talked with her husband and youngest son. "They look so happy."

"She does. They do," Gabe whispered his voice sympathetic like he understood the sadness Dean felt even when Dean did not. He leaned up to say even more softly, "Shift your hips, baby. Let it distract you."

Dean obeyed, then gasped softly as the plug moved inside him. Very distracting. Banished both the threat of tears and his sudden melancholy. He wasn't certain if he should be offended, scandalized or deeply grateful. Maybe all three. And he sort of pouted-glared at Gabe.

Got him a smirk, then Gabe's touch shifted away from Dean's back. His hand took hold of Dean's. "Come on, gorgeous, let's go party."

Turned out to be another good evening. Every time Dean started to feel sad or worry about Dad and Gabe getting into it, he shifted slightly and let the thing in his ass remind him of the absurdity of the situation. Kept a smile on his face and a genuine sound in his laugh. Something he knew Gabe must have intended all along. Made him fall in love with the man all over again.

*

The flow of time was strange here. For Gabriel. He assumed Dean experienced it much as humans always did – slow during boring or difficult days; speed of light on good ones. As a god, he'd always experienced it as a constant and inconsequential.

Now any moment away from Dean dragged, while there was never enough time when they were together. He also worried about each sunset in a way unknown in his prior existence. He knew with each passing 'day' rescue grew closer and all of this would end. He found a part of him dreaded it, even as he knew Dean's physical body was suffering while they … played house.

But as humans would say, summer disappeared in a flash. Interestingly enough, while the 'script' for his days at the law firm came from a half-dozen lawyer shows, Dean's cases came from de-supernaturalized versions of hunts the Winchesters had gone through over the last couple of years. With a twist. While some who had died out there in the real world did not, every last person Dean and Sam had ever saved did. No exceptions. Dean only broke down when those 'no longer saved' turned out to be children.

Happened the first time the week after his mother's birthday. He'd failed to stop the living-adult version of a little boy's vengeful spirit from drowning a young mother and son. It wasn't the last.

The only exception to the children's rule was when a jet crashed just outside of town. Dean and Jo hadn't even been called in before flight 424's burning debris had scattered all over a field. But in the aftermath Singer gave them the nod to liaise with Homeland Security and the FAA. For over a week, nightmares of being on the crashing plane made Dean scream himself awake, often calling the name, 'Amanda' before his eyes shot open.

Each time, he ended up clinging to Gabriel, softly sobbing he was sorry for being such a baby, deeply ashamed his fear of flying kept him from feeling more for the dead. Utter nonsense, and Gabriel told him so as he held him, comforted him. They called phobias irrational fears for a reason, he told him and insisted Dean had to stop beating himself up for an all-too-human lack of perfection. The embraces and gentle kisses seemed to help, the words never did.

*

Every other Thursday since Sam had returned from California, Dean and his little brother had a standing 'date' for burgers and beer at the Roadhouse. It had been Dean's idea to begin with as well as his to make it a regular event. Beyond that he never said a word about last minute cancellations, even though he knew Gabe made certain Sam got out the office door in time to get here. Dean never told on him, never even thought about it because Sammy worked hard and had the right to chill on well deserved nights off with someone other than his brother.

There had been far fewer missed burgers after Jess had called off the engagement and left for Santa Barbara. At least until Sam had started working with, then seeing Madison. It was okay. Really, it was. Dean was happy for him, and as the leaves changed colors he even got the feeling this one might lead to an engagement that wouldn't be broken. So yeah, 'future fiancée' trumped him, no harm, no foul. Except … Sam had never introduced him to Madison, not even after she'd met Mom and Dad. Hell, they'd started doing couples nights together like they did with Dean and Gabe. Just never all six of them at once.

Again Dean sort of got it. Gabe was Sam and Madison's boss. Made it hard to relax and enjoy an evening around him. Especially, probably, for her, since she'd not known Dean's boyfriend before he became the boss like Sammy had. So yeah, no double dating for the Winchester siblings. He understood, but it stung.

Mind kind of got stuck on the word as he sat in his favorite booth trading off sipping his beer and picking at the bottle's label. Been there for an hour waiting for Sammy to show, would have to stick around for at least another one before he could go home, or he'd have to come up with something more elaborate to tell Gabe than the usual 'good' answer to 'how'd it go?' He knew it was wrong to keep secrets from him, but he'd never been good at letting others think badly of his brother. Even when he deserved it.

Instead he'd gotten really good at making excuses for him. Like Sam knew Dean had met Madison before. Briefly, back when Dean had played arm candy for Gabe at the firm's Christmas party. Been the last one before Sam had graduated from Stanford Law. A 'hi, nice to meet you, enjoy the holidays' exchange. Had lasted maybe a minute tops. Not exactly the 'hey, Dean, I want you to meet the lady I'm crazy about' thing he kept hoping for. Didn't help that he was getting stood up so Sam could spend time with the very same lady. Hey, there was an idea. Instead of ditching his brother's ass, he could actually bring Madison along so they could get to know each other. Maybe before they all had to pretend Sammy really wanted Dean to be the best man at their wedding. Could hear Sam's part of that conversation with their parents now, 'but Mooooommmm, Dean's such a loser. …'

He was hip-deep into a really good pity party when Sam suddenly dropped his ginormous ass into the other side of the booth. "Sorry, I'm late," he muttered, his hair still damp from a shower and his work clothes abandoned for jeans and a t-shirt. All said loud and clear he could have shown up on time reeking of sex or be late and appear respectable. Dean appreciated the choice, he really did. But was a quick text so much to ask for?

Dean forced a smile. "No problem. How's it going?" And let the lame conversation begin. Sometimes he honestly didn't know what was worse – when Sam stood him up or when he showed. He loved the bitch so damned much, but they never seemed to be able to connect. It was like hunting was the only thing they ever had in common and with it off the … what the fuck? Hunting?

Far as he knew Sam had never hunted and he sure as fuck hadn't gone himself. Hell, he'd be the first to admit if he'd had to go out and kill the cow making up Ellen's delicious burgers, he'd have joined the tofu-veggie set long ago. Damnit, been months since he'd had one of those weird mind slips.

He looked at his brother droning on about some case he couldn't share the juicy details of anymore than Dean could his own, and suddenly he was done. This wasn't working, and he wanted Gabe. He stood up tossing a ten on the table to cover his beer and a more than generous tip.

"Dean?"

"Finally got the message, Sam. I'm not worth your time, so let's not do this again, and I'll see you at Thanksgiving." He made it outside, turning the collar of his coat up against a cold damp that threatened to turn into snow a few more weeks down the road. God, he hated winter. Too bad they couldn't find a case down south. Turned to say as much when he heard Sam catch up with him, but no, fuck, they didn't work cases. He and Jo did. In Kansas. Exclusively. Shit, he needed Gabe.

"Dean, look, I'm sorry. I've just got a lot of stuff going on now." He looked kind of crestfallen, but for once the puppy eyes failed to work their magic.

"I said I got it. Lots of stuff. All higher priority than me. I am one with the bottom of the list and going home."

A huge hand curled around his right bicep, stopping him. "Dean, you're my brother. I love you," he protested, his woe turning into something near anger as if Dean were abusing him or something.

Dean nodded. He'd never doubted his brother loved him. "But" – the sound of a trigger pulling on an empty chamber four times echoed up through his memory. _You hate me that much?_ The sound, the words, came with a visual flash of Sam standing over him, gun in his hand, face a mask of contempt and rage. "But you don't like me much either." Someday if he were feeling either really brave or really masochistic he might even work up the courage to ask why. But not tonight. "Now, let go."

Sam, damn him, did. The damp cold sunk deep into Dean's bones as he walked across the parking lot to the Impala. Turned the heater up full blast on the drive home, but it didn't stop him from shivering. Teeth were almost chattering by the time he got off the elevator and through their front door.

He shoved it closed behind him, then sagged back against it. "Gabe," he muttered, too tired, too frozen to get any power behind the word. Fortunately, the man in question was sitting on the sofa, reading. The book tumbled out of Gabe's hands and he darted across the room before Dean even finished saying his name.

"Shit, Deano, what the hell happened?" he demanded, his arms going around Dean, propping him up with a strength not even all of Sammy's height and muscle could match.

"Love me, don't you?" he almost slurred the word like he was drunk when he hadn't even finished a third of a single beer.

"Of course I do," he said, as if he didn't know they'd both said the words a lot in the past but really hadn't started meaning them until this past summer.

Made fear lurch through Dean's stomach. Maybe he was the only one finally meaning them. Or worse. Maybe Gabe loved him, but didn't like him much. Just like Sammy. Except … no matter what, Sam was his brother. Gabe could dump his ass.

His stomach twisted, and he jerked free, then ran for the bathroom, hitting his knees just in time to lose the beer and the small handful of pretzels that had made up his dinner. Up and out in two heaves, but the retching didn't stop, his body shuddering through contraction after contraction, almost as if it were trying to purge whatever it was that made him so damned unlikeable.

A cool washcloth settled across the back of his neck, and Gabe's hand began to gently rub. "Go away," he pleaded after spitting out a mouthful of bile. "Don't want you to see me like this."

"Tough. Not going anywhere."

"Please." He said it several times, but even he wasn't certain what he was asking for by the last time.

True to his word, Gabe didn't budge. Stayed there rubbing his back until the heaving finally stopped. Then he helped Dean up, helped him rinse out his mouth, brush his teeth and stripped him down to his boxers. Once that was done, he put him to bed. Joined him within moments. First night Dean could remember they didn't have sex, but Gabe held him close. Somehow it felt even more intimate.

*

Gabriel lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling long after Dean had pretty much passed out. He ached to know what had happened. So much so that he almost risked using a fraction of his power to find out, but the stakes were too high. Only thing he wouldn't risk for Dean was Dean.

Damn it. Things had been going so well for them. At the end of the baseball season, he'd bought football tickets. When those ran out they'd hit the basketball games. Beyond the hot dog and sports dates, they'd gone to clubs and nice restaurants. On the nights they'd stayed in, Dean had read or watched television curled up against him or with his head in Gabriel's lap. If they weren't already doing so, he'd have announced the success of the dating thing by asking Dean to live with him. Yet Dean had obviously disbelieved him when offered assurances he was loved.

Frustration coiled through him. He needed to be a god again. Needed the power to know and fix things, but no more than thirty minutes could have passed in the outside world. Six months, maybe more, to go. Meant he had to do everything as a mostly-human. Fuck.

Best answer he could come up with at – he glanced at the clock – three a.m. was to gently pet Dean's hair. Made him understand why humans got all upset about impotence. Shit, he felt flat out castrated in the useful-stakes.

Dean's stomach growled. A hungry sound, not a sick one. A second one, then he heard the soft sigh that always accompanied Dean waking up. Gabe let him pretend he was still asleep until a third and even louder growl made him say, "All right, time to get you fed," he said, shoving off the covers and forcing Dean to sit up.

He snatched up the comforter once he got them both on their feet and wrapped it around his human. Gabriel guided him into the kitchen, and sat Dean on a barstool for the few moments it took him to drag the smaller of their sofas into the kitchen. Showing off too much with the strength, but he wasn't in the mood to let the kid out of his sight.

Once he had Dean comfortable and where he could see him, he set about making a quick pot of tomato rice soup. The real stuff – not Campbell's with a handful of minute rice – cabbaged together from Dean's memories of watching his mom make it and Gabriel's own culinary talents filling in the gaps. Sure he tended to do the point the finger and conjure up a twelve-course meal thing, but he also liked to cook once a millennia or two. Had indulged that particular passion frequently in this little world, and Dean had been vocal and enthusiastic about his appreciation of it.

Another tummy growl and he got out a box of crackers then sliced up a fancy block of white cheddar to take off the edge while the soup simmered for a few minutes. Would need an hour for perfection, but he'd cheated by using microwavable rice instead of cooking it in the tomato broth so it would be ready soon.

He handed Dean the plate, then got him a glass of ginger ale to wash it down. He cleaned up what he'd used to prepare the soup to the accompaniment of crackers crunching. Deciding Dean needed to get back to bed more than the soup needed to simmer he dipped out a bowl for each of them.

They ate in a silence that lingered through his rising off the bowls, then putting them in the dishwasher. But, his voice soft and strained from the vomiting, Dean finally said, "You love me."

Not a question, but he knelt in front of where Dean sat. "Yes."

"I love you."

He pressed his forehead against Dean's. "I know."

Dean hesitated a moment, then added, "Like you, too."

"Know that, too." He waited for Dean to say or ask if Gabriel liked him, but it didn't come and fucking Ragnarok with whipped cream on top! He firmly, but gently cupped his hands around Dean's jaw, forcing him to look Gabriel in the eye. "I have never, ever liked anyone," god, human or something in between, "as much as I like you."

Dean stared at him. "But … you like everyone."

"Pretty much, yeah. That tell you something about how special you are to me?"

With a soft sound Gabriel couldn’t begin to interpret, Dean curled into him. And yeah, fuck all of this, Gabriel picked him up and carried him back to their bedroom.

One minute past obscenely early in the morning, he called Dean in sick for at least a week and got an 'about fucking time' from Singer. He made a similar call to his firm, and because he was 99.9 percent certain Sam was responsible for Dean's current – and maybe a lot more – state, he put Louis in charge of the enormous shit. Put it that way and given Louis' tendency to kiss ass, he could easily foresee one miserable time for Sammy.

Excuses made, he packed a bag for both of them, got those, then a still sound-asleep Dean into the Lexus SUV and hit the road. Once business hours were open, he called ahead and reserved what he wanted. Beyond short notice, but what was the point of being the significant other of this world's creator, not to mention rich with a fake name that had clout, if he couldn't make a few unreasonable demands?

Dean didn't even start to wake up until hours later when he pulled off the paved roads and onto the gravel one leading to their cabin. If one could call a ridiculously luxurious hideaway a cabin. But it was on a lake and surrounded by woods, so close enough. His pretty boy sat up and started looking around as they pulled up in front of a place designed to look like it was made of logs – if one ignored the hot tub and the wrap around balcony on the second floor. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Home for the next seven days. Now, get your pretty ass inside while I unload the car."

A sleepy Dean was normally a compliant one, so it didn't surprise Gabriel when he murmured, "'kay,' then shuffled off probably to face-plant on the first sofa he found. Good enough. No way he wanted to deal with his boy wide awake and shouting until after the coffee was made.

*

Dean lay in a patch of still impossibly green grass and stared up at the vivid blue sky. Almost freaking November, but he was comfortable wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. Had even kicked off the socks and shoes. Be a perfect day if not for the whole 'things to do' that had nothing to do with a river bank and the soft sounds of water sloshing over rocks.

"Still sulking, I see," Gabe said, plopping down somewhere near his head.

He scowled at a fluffy cloud. "I make it a policy never to speak to kidnappers."

"Pity," his snake of an abductor said accompanied by the sound of a plastic bag ripping open. "I was all set to lull you into Stockholm Syndrome by sharing my candy with you."

A familiar crunch, crunch sound forced Dean to glance to his right and catch sight of the purple bag. Peanutty goodness all right, but, "I prefer milk chocolate."

"Must be why I brought these, too," he answered and a moment later a big yellow bag landed on Dean's chest.

He considered ignoring it, but hey, Peanut M&Ms. Out of pure principle he resisted tearing into the bag. Merely opened it, but soon his crunching blended in with Gabe's. Tactical error on his part. Hard to maintain the proper mood when munching on his favorite candy with his favorite guy. Not to mention the whole freaking perfect weather thing. He sighed feeling defeated despite his righteous indignation. Didn't stop him from shifting around until his head rested in Gabe's lap. Made the bitch make with the 'petting his hair' action so not the worst development, but still, he felt it had to be said, "You should have asked me."

Gabe snorted. "So you could say no? I don't think so."

"But-"

"Baby, you're overworked and overtired. Only thing I did wrong was waiting as long as I did to haul your stubborn ass out of town."

Overworked and overtired. Sounded about right and he couldn't help wondering if that might sum up the reasons for all the mental slips. Liked it better than he was losing his fucking mind, but, "People won't stop dying." It sounded so stupid, because of course they wouldn't.

"No, they won't. It's the sad thing about humans – how temporary they are." Gabe sighed. "Except they aren't. They keep coming back, intriguing and irritating and relentlessly human until they become someone who can even ensnare the heart of a god."

Trickster. Gabriel. "Is anything real?"

"The two of us."

Yes, the two of them. Everything else … the djinn. But even as the truth came to him, it began to slip away. "Gabe -?"

"Shhh, it's all right. You aren't ready to know yet. Just hold onto this – whatever the reality – I love you."

The chill haunting his bones fell away, and Dean smiled. Then he slept.

*

The morning after they returned to the city, Gabriel headed into the office. He stopped at his favorite bakery on the way in for a large caramel mocha with double whipped cream plus a cinnamon bun loaded with cream cheese icing. His usual order, and he truly appreciated this reality allowing him to keep his metabolism along with his sweet tooth or he would have needed to upsize his wardrobe at least twice since becoming Corporate Lawyer Guy.

One slight change – he opted against getting something for Sam. Next change in the Monday morning routine was he called Louis into his office before meeting with his own associate. He had little use for the junior partner – a fair summation of his view of everyone at the firm. With the exception of himself, Sam and Madison, everyone was modeled after a character on some lawyer show or another. Although sometimes the details blended. Gabriel hadn't even bothered to note the last name of this particular 'character.' It was just all going through the motions until he could go home to Dean.

Part of those 'motions' was a briefing of what had happened while he was away. As expected, everything had gone perfectly, including a few vague nods toward Sam having had a fairly miserable week. Gabriel supposed it was foolish to hold any animosity toward a construct of Dean's imagination, but he nodded his satisfaction. And the icing on the cake? He called Sam in and told him the assignment to Louis was a permanent position change. Effective immediately.

Sam nodded, his eyes lowered with the proper submissive air for someone who had seriously fucked up with the big boss. "I'd like a moment with Sam," he told Louis, "then he's all yours."

When they were alone, he turned his iciest stare on Sam – the same look that had practically made Thor wet himself. "I never lied when I said you were good enough to be my associate, Sam. But so were a lot of other people and only an utter fool would have assumed my relationship with Dean had nothing to do with your getting the job. Apparently, that's a good description of you."

Sam's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Gabriel wondered what it was that Dean saw in real life that he would construct a fantasy brother like this. The taint of demon blood had done a lot of damage to the real Sam. It always did – rages, obsessions, poor decisions, a tendency to cling to resentments, and an all around inclination toward the sort of self-righteousness that could easily tumble into amorality. But from what he'd seen of the 'real boy,' Sam had done an admirable job of fighting against those impulses. Oh, he had every one of the taint markers, but to a lesser degree than most. Dean still must have managed to pick up on them and, since he'd pretty much raised Sam on his own, had decided they were all his fault. And this version of Sam? He was all about Dean punishing himself for failing Sam.

"You knew why I let you get out of here in time for 'burger night' Thursdays, yet Dean was upset enough when he got home from the last one to let slip you'd pretty much stood him up for a booty call. My guess it wasn't the first time. You don't even want to know what I'd do to a douchebag like you in another place and time. But since we're here, I'll settle for this – associates don't have access to this office. I hired you because I love your brother. So get the hell out of my sight before I get vindictive enough to fire you for the same reason."

It felt absurdly good to watch the big man scurry out of the room like a kid threatened with a spanking. Gabriel spent the rest of the day staring at the view and wondering what to do about the real Sam. He didn't have an answer by quitting time. At least not one he both liked and would keep Dean from trying to kill him again.

*

Dawn broke on Christmas, but instead of bounding out of bed at the thought of all the presents and homemade goodness his mom had in the works, Dean pulled the covers over his head. He hadn't seen Sam since Thanksgiving and acting like nothing was wrong so their parents could enjoy the day had exhausted him even with Gabe running interference. God, the man was good to him. And why did that feel like irony or some kind of pun? He shook himself and decided he needed to clear the cobwebs out of his brain.

Toothbrush, shower, shave and no, things didn't look better in the long-term forecast, but there was more to Christmas than family dinner and avoiding being alone with Sam. "Gabe?" he called, pulling on the dark-green silk robe his lover had bought him for last Christmas.

"Living room," came the answer. "Trying to figure out what is in this box."

Dean grinned. Given he'd fallen in love with a man who could buy himself pretty much anything, he'd always had to be creative when it came to gift occasions. He was particularly proud of his efforts this time out. "Any luck?" he asked, leaning against the doorway.

"No," Gabe said with a scowl then almost tossed the package aside when he got a look at Dean. "And I think I see something I'd rather unwrap."

Damn, the man was good for his ego. "Present first."

"Fine," Gabe said with a dramatic huff, but tore into his gift with all the reserve of a shark in a feeding frenzy. The box weighed less than a pound and Dean had chosen it carefully so it didn't even rattle – all carefully designed to drive his curious lover nuts.

When the lid came off it revealed – "An extra large shower curtain liner?" Gabe gave him a perplexed look as he pulled out the clear, folded sheet of plastic. Pricy for what it was, but still damned cheap, and something they didn't need at all given the fancy glass doors on the steam shower.

Dean smirked at Gabe's epic failure to hide his disappointment. "Uh huh. 's big enough to cover our bed."

That got the randy bastard's attention. "Oh? And we need to do that why?"

"Bottom of the closet," he said nodding toward the door in question. "In my gym bag."

Gabe all but scurried to it then quickly emerged with a gallon jug of his favorite decadent chocolate syrup.

"Thought maybe we could put those to use New Year's Eve," Dean said, blushing slightly.

Eyebrows waggled. "I like the way you think, gorgeous, but I'll have to enjoy chocolate-covered Dean some other day."

He frowned. "Why?"

Gabe pulled an envelope out of one the pockets of his own silk robe. "Because I'm taking my best guy and his folks to New York for the week."

Four plane tickets were inside, and he loved the idea, but knew Dad would throw a fit about Gabe spending so much money on them. Plus, "We just got back from a vacation."

"Six weeks ago is not 'just.' Besides, this isn't a vacation per se." Another dip of the hand into the pocket and out came a small velvet box. "More like a honeymoon."

Dean's heart began to pound. "Gabe?"

He snapped the box open revealing a masculine version of an engagement ring. "What do you say, beautiful? Will you marry me?"

Almost terrified a sudden move would make everything disappeared, Dean slowly approached him. "You really love me? That much?"

Gabe nodded. "Like I've never loved anyone before. And I'm kind of still waiting for an answer here."

Dean reached out with his left hand, not even trying to hide how badly it was shaking. His throat felt tight and his eyes burned, but for once pain wasn't behind the familiar sensations. "Yes. God, yes." The ring fit perfectly.

*

Gabriel had footed the bill for Dean's parents, Jo, Ellen and Bobby to attend the wedding. He'd let Sam know the where's and when's, but didn't offer to pay for anything. Figured it was the best he could do for Dean. If Sam didn't show, they could all pretend it was because the kid couldn't afford it and Gabe had 'overlooked' adding him. If he did show, it meant -- whatever else was going through his fake head -- Dean meant enough to him to wipe out his bank account to see him get married.

Either way he knew it wouldn't endear him to John and Mary. But Gabriel needed to know if Dean had managed to repair his self-esteem issues enough to acknowledge his real brother would never miss his wedding, so fake-Sam shouldn't either.

To his relief, Sam didn't leave them in suspense. In fact, he got to the airport before them. Coach ticket in hand. Madison had even come with him. "No way I'd miss this," he'd whispered in Dean's ear as he'd hugged his older brother. But nothing escaped Gabriel's notice unless he allowed it. The biggest smile crossed Dean's face and he looked at Gabriel with bright, watery eyes.

He rolled his own, but smiled back, then went over to the ticket counter to upgrade Sam and Madison's tickets to first class. Crisis averted before the parents/in-laws even had time to notice their youngest hadn't gotten the same invitation they had. Helped settle his stomach, and he almost laughed at the very thought. More than a hundred millennia old and he felt nervous about something as silly as a human ritual that hadn't been around for more than a few centuries. He shook his head at himself. He'd kept company with Kali for far longer, yet not once had he felt the need for something or someone to declare Kali was his. If he'd been any less than who he was, if there had even been the slightest chance a mere mortal creature could control his mind, he'd have suspected he was as much a victim of this make-believe world as Dean, but no. Love had done this to him.

As he said his vows he even came to wonder if he'd been too hard on his more infamous brethren. With all his power, it terrified him how he might have reacted if Dean had rejected him. Perhaps he'd have even done something spectacular enough to have the tale told in the same breath as Apollo and Daphne. Or Zeus and Europa. "You're a dangerous man, Dean Winchester," he said when they curled up in their marriage bed.

The hummed-sated sound Dean always made after he'd been fucked senseless answered him, but after a few minutes he roused enough to ask, "Winchester? Didn't you want me to take your name?"

Perhaps if he'd had one to give, but he pre-dated last names, and even his first was no older than the soul in his arms. "No," he said, "but give me some time and I may take yours."

*

Dean had a lot to celebrate on his birthday. He was happily married and he'd reconciled with Sam -- they were even back to Thursday Burger Nights at _Sam's_ insistence. Their parents were still together, healthy and a welcome part of their lives. Hell, since the wedding Dad had decided he kind of liked Gabe. So it never occurred to him to say no when his handsome husband insisted on spoiling him rotten by taking out the whole family to the best restaurant in town to celebrate. To make it all perfect, Sam and Madison used the occasion to announce their engagement, and Dean thought maybe their happy smiles might have been the best present of all. May have said something along those lines which got him hugged by Gigantor, who followed up with a noogie which was utterly not cool as he was the big brother in this relationship.

Sam laughed and gave him a kiss on the forehead which made Dean favor him with his best menacing growl. Everyone laughed at that. All in all twenty-eight was shaping up to be a damned good age. He should have known better than to think something like that. Oddly the universe decided to teach him a lesson in the form of a young woman. Practically a girl.

She stood on the far side of the dining room. Long dark brown hair, pale skin, dressed all in white. No real reason to attract his attention, but he found himself transfixed, then slowly he began to move toward her. A waiter passed between them, making him lose sight of her for a split second, but somehow she'd vanished. Not the first thing that hadn't made sense, but somehow something in the pit of his stomach warned him this was the beginning of the end. But of what?

He still didn't have an answer when he saw her again a few days later. He and Jo were arguing about a handful of weird deaths in the local prison as they walked out of a Starbucks. She was all 'good riddance to bad rubbish.' Part of him agreed, but something else said no, it was his sort of gig. And what did that even mean? That's when he saw her again. Across the street. Only this time her clothes were gray with dirt, like they hadn't been washed in months. Face had a similar color and griminess to it. Didn't feel nearly as weird thinking he needed to talk to her, but maybe he should have looked before he started across the street.

Almost got his ass flattened by a Prius, but Jo dragged him back just in time. Lost sight of the girl for an instant at the most, but, like the first time, she was gone without a trace. Damn. Weird. His kind of gig. Mind kept coming back to that and he probably came off as a non-responsive idiot all the way back to the station. Simply couldn't focus on anything but the girl and the weirdness.

Bobby dumped a new case of them as soon as they showed. Series of disappearances. When he opened the top file, it really didn't surprise him to see the girl's face. Gotten psychic like Sammy? What the hell? Like Sammy? He shook himself. Focused on the paperwork. At least now he had a name. Sophie Lewis. Been gone almost eighteen months. Disappeared a few weeks after her father had died, and her family had thought she'd taken off, but they'd finally gotten worried enough to report it. Fit a pattern and bumped the numbers up high enough to warrant involvement by Major Crimes. All made sense. Except for the part where he'd been seeing her. Should have said something, but, in the end, he decided it all sounded too crazy and he kept it a secret.

*

It had started. Gabriel could feel the shimmer in the reality. Nothing he hadn't felt before – Dean had fought the illusions on many occasions even figuring it all out that week on the lake – but this time it was different. Fifty minutes had passed in the real world. Sam would be drawing near, and Gabriel didn't doubt for a second some part of Dean either sensed his brother's approach or simply knew enough time had passed for Sam to make an appearance.

Another month, maybe two, and their time here would come to an end. He bit into a Snickers and considered what came next. Whatever else happened, he figured he had a lot of fast talking to do.

*

Dean and Jo worked the case right up to the day before Sam's wedding. A long string of dead ends and no results. Made the anxiety churn in his stomach. Never been like this before. Answers had always come so quickly. Bodies piled up, but they always closed the case within days of getting it. Were they slipping? No, things weren't cut and dried in the real world. Real world? God, what was happening?

Unlike the last few times confusion and weirdness had made his head spin, he didn't look to Gabe to ground him. Knew he needed to face this. Find his way to the other side. Or maybe go mad. Figured at this point it was even money either way. Was handling it until they clocked out for the night and the wedding weekend. But as he drove home he thought either way he was going to lose Gabe.

Feeling gut shot – and God, why did he know how that felt? – he turned around and headed for Gabe's office. Felt like he was hanging on by a thread when the elevator opened to reveal the gold embossed sign declaring this the first floor of _Kaggen, Mason, Matlock & Associates._

Kaggen. Gabe's last name. The name he'd almost taken. Dean Winchester-Kaggen. Dean Kaggen. Research he'd done after a 'gig' tumbled into his mind. Loki, Coyote, a string of other names and Kaggen. South African version of The Trickster. The god he'd allowed into his bed and his body. Back in the real world. Djinn.

It wasn't like in the movies. No blinding headache. No scream. No deep drama. But one moment he was doing his best to hold onto Detective Winchester and the next he knew everything. Maybe because he always had. Fuck.

Tears welled in his eyes and he stabbed the elevator button to return to the lobby. All the way down, he tried to tell himself this was real, that the djinn had changed reality, that all of this was due to a wish his mother had never died. But he knew. Deluded himself for too long to go for another ride. Nothing had ever really added up. Gabe had been both too human and not human enough to be the real Gabriel. No, this was all some sort of delusion. His husband, the love of his life, was nothing more than a reflection of a cosmic-level fuck buddy.

He shed more than a few tears over that on the drive home, but by the time he walked through the front door, he had a plan. If the image of one of the djinn's victims was haunting him, odds were good so was a version of the creature itself. Killing it was the best chance of ending things so Sammy didn't have to face the damned thing alone.

Would need a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood. Except Gabe never entertained here. Wall-to-wall luxury, but no china and no silverware. Great. Trust Dean Winchester to screw up the details even in Fantasyland. Then he remembered Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Mom had the real stuff. Would have to steal from his mom. Awesome.

He took two steps toward the door, but it opened and Gabe walked in. "Honey, I'm home," he called, then frowned at the sight of Dean's face. "What's wrong?"

Arms closed around him and Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the man's warmth. "Nothing," he muttered into his husband's hair.

The embrace tightened. "Got eyes, kiddo. You've been crying."

"Can … we not talk about it now?" He asked. The tears began to spill again. Never thought he could fall in love, but he had, and, God, his heart was breaking. "Really kind of need you to make love to me."

Gabe drew back, then kissed him. "I can do that." And he did. For hours. Sweet, sensual slide of their bodies together. Over and over again. Dean writhed beneath his touch, his stupid eyes refusing to stop with the waterworks, and a part of him really hoped he'd have a heart attack or something before he had to get out of this bed. No such luck.

His husband wrung one last climax out of him then curled up and fell asleep. The pain in his heart mental instead of physical, Dean kissed him and got out of bed. Gabe didn't even stir while he dressed. He paused in the doorway, could barely make out the bed through the tears, but he had to end this. "I love you," he whispered and left.

Well after midnight, he had to break into a butcher's shop to get the lamb's blood. The lock on his parents' house was even less of a challenge. If they'd been real, he would have given them a lecture about better home security. But they weren't. God. Mom. Dad. Going to lose them, too.

Accustomed to moving in the dark he easily made his way to the china cabinet and the velvet lined box that held the silver. He sat it on the table but heard movement behind him. He dodged the swing of a baseball bat then took down the overgrown figure that could only be Sam. Even if he fought like an amateur. Forgotten that Sammy was staying over – the old 'not seeing the bride before the wedding' thing, which was hard to pull off while living in the same apartment. Interesting his subconscious sent Sam to stop him instead of Dad.

John Winchester might not have kept up his training here, but once a Marine, always a Marine. Well-trained and in practice, Dean knew he could have taken him down, but not easily and both of them would have gotten hurt. Maybe that was the answer. Didn't want to hurt anyone, and he could handle an untrained Sam easily enough. Didn't change the fact he'd been caught red-handed.

Spun some lie that didn't really fit this place about owing a bookie, and, hey, these things happened. Should had left it at that, but figment of his imagination or not, this was a version of Sam, and he couldn't just leave. Instead he told him he was sorry they weren't closer and asked him to tell their parents Dean loved them. Should have guessed it would make Sammy follow him. Make him refuse to get out of the car and insist on coming along.

Somehow, even knowing this was all fake, it still seemed to take as long to make the drive from Kansas to the warehouse in Illinois as it would have in the real world. Sam bitched and worried all the way. Almost made him smile. That was his boy. Especially the bitching part.

Once there Sam followed him inside. Doing a fine job of seeming real and scared to death Dean had lost his mind. Couldn't help wondering if he might not prefer that fate. Sam happy with Madison. Mom and Dad alive. Gabe in love with him enough to stay by his side until he could manage to be crazy enough to believe this was all real again. But no. This was all in his head and he had to get out of it before the real Sam got himself killed trying to rescue him.

They found what Dean had expected. Husks that had once been human dangling from ropes. And the girl. He stared at her for a moment, then turned to a big open space behind them. Probably where he was tied up, seeing her as he fought for consciousness and adding her into his delusions. "Doesn't grant wishes. Just makes you think it has."

Sam tugged at his arm. "Look, man, that thing could come back, all right? Let's get out of here."

Dean shook his head. "Gives us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow." Wouldn't take Sam more than an hour to get to him even if he'd needed to hotwire a car. Been like a year for him.

"No, Dean, that doesn't make sense, okay?"

"Yeah, it does." So sad. "I'm catatonic and taking all this stuff in. But I can't snap out of it." Seeing it all in front of him, he had a feeling Plan A was not going to work. So what was Plan B?

Sam wouldn't stop pleading with him. "Yeah look, you're right, I was wrong. You're not crazy. But we—we need to get out of here. Fast."

Fast. Needed to do something fast. Sam pulled him a few steps, but Dean jerked away. "You aren't real. This has to stop."

Sam grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Did you feel that? I'm real. This is not an acid trip." Might have been more convincing if the sweet ache in his ass wasn't constantly reminding him how real the 'unreal' was here. "I'm real and that thing's gonna come down here and kill us."

Perfect frantic performance for a 'supernatural virgin.' Between the djinn and his own mind, they'd painted quite a world. "Well, there's one way to be sure." He pulled out the knife, and Sam immediately backed up.

"What are you doing?"

"It's an old-wives' tale. If you're about to die in a dream, you wake up."

"No, no, no. That's crazy!"

"Everything about this place is, Sammy. Time for me to be a real boy again." He turned the knife toward his own stomach.

Sam reached for him, but he moved the knife closer to his body and his brother backed up, his hands held out in surrender. "Look, this isn't a dream, all right? I'm here, with you, now. And you're going to kill yourself."

"No, Sammy. I'm gonna wake up." He put both hands on the knife, needing to give it as much momentum as he could.

"Wait!" Sam shouted, then his whole manner changed. Panic vanished into disappointment. "Why'd you have to keep digging?"

From different parts of the warehouse the others walked in – Mom and Dad the way they'd both looked the last time he'd seen them alive; Madison without the weight of knowing what she was on her shoulders; and Gabe munching on a bag of Reese's Pieces. "Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?" Sam asked. "You were happy."

"Put the knife down, sport," Dad said.

Mom looked at him and he could see the love in her eyes. He'd missed her every day of his life and he'd had her back. "Please, honey."

"You're not real," he protested, trying to hold on to the truth. "None of it is."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "It's still better than anything you had."

"What?"

"It's everything you ever wanted." Dad put his hands on her shoulders. "We're a family again. Let's go home."

He shook his head. "I'll die." Sam will die. "The djinn'll drain the life out of me in a couple of days." Do the same to Sam.

Dad didn't deny it. "But in here, with us, it'll feel like years."

Mom smiled. "Like a lifetime, sweetheart. I promise." Her hand cupped his cheek. "No more pain or fear." Wouldn't have to kill Sam. Wouldn't have to see what happened when he couldn't do what Dad had told him to do. What Sam had made him promise to do. "Just love, comfort and safety."

"Son, stay with us." Dad smiled. "You can finally rest."

Madison stepped forward. "You don't have to worry about Sam anymore. You'll get to watch him live a full life."

Sam looked at him. "Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough? I'm begging you. Don't do this. Let Madison live a life where she didn't kill anyone. Let me be free of whatever is going on. Let Mom and Dad see their grandchildren. Please."

God, he wanted to. Was wavering enough he risked everything and looked at the one person who could really stop him. "Nothing to say?"

He let Gabe get close enough to draw him down into a kiss. "I love you," he said, then closer to whisper, "Like I said before, I'm not that kind of god. Your call, kid."

Real. Gabe was real. Dean plunged the knife into his own flesh.

*

Something – Dean's will? – propelled Gabriel out of the mental prison. The shock of illusionary mortality giving way to godhood disoriented him, prevented him from reincorporating. Instinctively he wrapped his essence around Dean, helped him pull free when the djinn attacked Sam. Helped him drive the knife deep into the creature's heart.

The boys were safe. He started to gather his human shell around him then something touched him he hadn't felt for a very long time. Not yet strong enough to resist it, he gave Dean a caress before following the pull out of the warehouse and off the planet.

Kali was waiting for him in the middle of what humans called Jupiter's red spot. "Ah, there you are."

He raised his eyebrows or would have if he had any in this form. "I was kind of in the middle of something. Could we hold the reunion some other time?"

"No, we cannot."

Irritation flashed through him. He'd loved her once, part of him still did, but he loved Dean far more, and he needed to get back to him. "I don't have time for this."

"You speak like one of them," she said with clear disapproval. "We are gods. Immortal. With all the time in this universe and a thousand others to command."

Yeah, yeah, so they did. Dean did not. And he'd left him vulnerable, fresh out of a ride in an illusionary reality with only a promise he _might_ have understood to assure him he hadn't been abandoned. Needed to get back to him before he started making all sorts of assumptions. "Been fun, see you around."

"Hold, brother." Damn, he knew that voice.

"Thor." He was getting a really bad feeling about this, and he'd learned to trust his instincts. "Haven't seen you since the third Crusade."

"The Norn have spoken, little one." Thunderer always had been a buzz killer. "If you continue along your present course, the world will lose The Trickster."

He snorted. "There are millions, nothing can kill them all."

"Not your creations." Kali said. "You."

Laughter seemed a good response, but he fought the impulse. "I'm a concept. One humans love. I can't be killed."

Anger shimmered through Kali – a most impressive sight. Worlds had literally crumbled beneath that glare. "The Fates say otherwise."

Norns, Fates, Oracles, whatever, it was all the same noise as far as he was concerned. "So they may, but they aren't exactly known for full disclosure."

Thor's own temper flared. "We are not fools, brother, but you must withdraw from this battlefield."

Battlefield? "What battlefield?"

Kali's ire fixed on Thor, something that probably spared Jupiter from going supernova. "Your mortal is pleasing to the eye, but he is flawed. And a pawn in the schemes of Yahweh's creations."

Demons and/or angels. With plans for his Dean. Not enough chocolate in the universe to deal with news like that. "Gotta go."

"No," they said together and something … surrounded him.

*

Dean admitted defeat after two days with no word. Even when he'd 'stabbed' himself he'd known the odds were high 'Gabe' had merely said what Dean had wanted to hear. Now he was certain of it. No one, especially not The Trickster, had been trapped in his head with him for the 57 minutes it had taken for him to get back to the real world. Back to where Sam was more passive-aggressive about his dislike for him versus the 'nothing in common so not close' crap of Fake-Sam. Back to where no one loved him.

Too sick and exhausted from what the djinn had done to him, he'd slept most of the first day, but the second had left him wide-awake and all too aware of how absurd his fantasy life had been. Sam had wanted all the details of course, and he'd told him everything he could about Mom and Dad. The rest? That was his private pain, but somehow Sam had picked up on how uneven things had been between Dean and Sam's counterpart. Made Sammy go all emo on him and tell him how glad he was they were close.

Dean had tried to take some comfort from it, but a few words spoken to an older brother obviously near tears didn't carry as much weight as what Sam had said when they'd busted up that asylum haunting. Because, hey, nothing underlines a point better than trying to shoot someone four times. So yeah, it was nice of Sam to try and comfort him, but he knew Sam thought he was a pathetic loser.

As he always did when he remembered that hunt, Dean quickly abandoned his bed to go sit on the Impala's hood and stare up at the stars. Helped him think and remember Sam was more important than him. Didn't matter how much Dean had let him down in the past if he could just save Sam from whatever fate Dad had feared. All felt pretty close now, and it made him shiver. For a second he slipped up and wished Gabe were here to wrap him in his arms and keep him warm.

Gabe. The thought of his lost husband who never was made the tears well up. Fuck, he wished he hadn't done that to himself, hadn't created the love of his life out of a god who considered him a fuck toy at best. Couldn't even sit here and hope the real thing would show up now. Never be able to enjoy his touch the way he had before he'd walked into that fucking warehouse. Been sort of the high point of his pre-djinn days. Now, if The Trickster bothered to show up again, he'd have to tell him he'd made up his mind and they were done. Maybe Dean would get lucky and it would piss him off enough the god would smite him or something.

"Dean?" Sam's voice startled him. "You okay?"

"Fine," he muttered, "just needed some air."

"Me, too." Sam settled on hood beside him, wrapping a blanket around both of them. Warmth felt so good, he didn't resist when Sam guided Dean's head down to rest against the big girl's shoulder. "Thing about air is it makes me think."

Shouldn't ask, but he never had been good about not playing his part. "About what?"

"In that world you created, I had Madison and Mom and Dad had each other. Makes me think you might have had someone, too. Did you?"

He didn't say anything, but Sam understood the silence. "How serious?"

"Married."

Sam's arms went around him and hugged him close. "God, I'm so sorry. You want to talk about her?" Stupid question. Of course Dean didn't want to talk. That was Sammy's thing, except the stupid Sasquatch went and asked, "Or was it a him?"

So he hadn't been as stealthy about the man-on-man action as he'd thought. Should have remembered Sam didn't miss much. "Gabe." He didn't say anything else, but his brother held him while he cried.

*

His loving siblings, colleagues, 'pains in his ass' had bound him in a sphere of energy he couldn't escape. Pissed Gabriel off to no end, especially since he'd just escaped from one form of confinement. He did _not_ appreciate this trend. Fortunately, he had a way out.

Kali and Thor had designed his prison to slowly give way over the next ten years, but he'd known something rotten was up and had already started to do his trick of being one place while looking like he was in another. Done it so often it had amazed him they hadn't noticed, but gods could be arrogant stiffs, who seldom got what worked against humans could work against them. In any case, they'd bottled him up before he'd finished, but he was occupying two places at the same time. And one of those places was jailhouse free.

Took a lot of his energy, but slowly he managed to follow his aura, karma, whatever to freedom. A lot like shoving an elephant through a keyhole – could be done with the right levels of power, but the elephant was certain not to enjoy it. Days of slow, tedious strain, then suddenly he was free. Immediately he popped home, collapsing in the middle of his living room.

"Loki!" Madison cried out, rushing to his side. Had to give her credit, the gal was holding it together remarkably well for someone finding a god sprawled on the carpet like a mugging victim in an alley.

Wanted to fall apart, go be one with the cosmos for a few centuries, but instead he clung to his human form, the effort making him shiver violently. "Hungry," he gasped. "Sugar."

He couldn't focus enough to track the time between her running for the kitchen and a straw pressing against his lips. "Drink," she ordered, and he obeyed without even a witty comment in his own head.

Chocolate syrup filled his mouth. The same favored brand he'd spent a glorious weekend licking off of Dean's delectable body. Sugar helped, memory helped even more – reminded him exactly why he was fighting to stay here as opposed to flitting off on some deity sabbatical.

He drained three of the gallon jugs dry before he finally felt solid enough to sit up. Not even close to full strength. Going for the most guttural ancient language he knew, he cursed Kali, Thor and every aspect remotely associated with them. Since long before Oedipus' ancestral line even began, anyone with a glimmer of sense had figured out trying to thwart a prophesy almost guaranteed it would come about. Before his 'friends' had gotten their all-powerful mitts on him, he'd have had no worries about what might be coming, but now? Be weeks, maybe months of sugar binging before he was back to full strength, and for the first time in his entire existence he had to face the fact he might cease to exist.

Immediately his mind went to war with itself. One part howled nothing was worth risking death. Another screamed Dean wouldn't want him to die so leave the human to his fate and catch up with the soul in its next incarnation. But above it all, a chant sounded. Calm, clear and strong. 'Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean.' It gave him the courage to reach out in search of him.

His mind touched panic and sharp, bright fear. Time was up. Live or die. He had to decide now.

*

Dean called Sam's name over and over, his flashlight trying to pierce the darkness shrouding Cold Oak. Nothing. God, where was he? Bobby walked beside him, silent, scanning, a calm to his storm, but for once he couldn't take any comfort from the man's presence. "Sam!"

"Dean!" Sam called as they rounded a bend and there he was. Best moment of Dean's life. Story of his life that it really was nothing more than a moment.

"Sam, look out!" he shouted as a dark figure lunged at Sam. "No!" he screamed, running, but he could see his brother's body twitching as a knife bit and cut, then Sam dropped to his knees.

Dean had almost reached him, had begun to slide to his own knees to catch Sam before he fell into the muddy street. Except he collided with him first. What? Sam, on his feet and strong if a little battered, hugged him tight in an embrace he happily returned except he could hear …

"Sam? Sam. Sam. Hey, come here. You're okay, champ." What? He turned to see himself kneeling in the mud, holding his brother as the life drained out of him. "Hey. Look. Look at me. It's not even that bad. Sammy? Sam. Hey, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay?"

"Yeah, that's enough of that," a voice he'd really not expected to hear again announced and suddenly they were in the middle of a luxurious living room. One littered with discarded chocolate syrup bottles.

"Gabe?"

"Hey, baby, you miss me?" Might have pissed Dean off, but with a wan smile Gabe sank down into the nearest overstuffed chair.

Feminine hands gripped Sam's shoulders. "I've got him, Dean," Madison said, the look in her eyes a mirror of the worry twisting into his gut. A minute ago he would have said nothing would have made him let go of Sammy again, but he gratefully released him to her care, and rushed over to kneel beside Gabe.

"What's wrong?" he whispered. "What happened?"

"Got waylaid after we busted out of djinn-land."

"Then it was you in there with me?"

Gabe nodded. "Every step of the way." He cupped Dean's face with his right hand. "Sorry I didn't tell you, but I was afraid you're brain would go all _Inception_ on me or something."

Hard to imagine himself treating Gabe like an infection, but he was the first to admit his mind was a fucking scary place. "'s okay." He leaned into the touch. "About the getting married part. …"

"All my idea, baby. And we still are as far as I'm concerned."

Dean smiled. "Me, too." He felt a tingle on his left hand and looked down to see his wedding ring take form. Made him feel all soft inside until he heard Gabe's soft gasp of pain. "Damnit! Are you fucking crazy?" He demanded, leaping to his feet. "No more parlor tricks!"

Gabe held up his hands in surrender. "So hot the way your eyes flash when you're angry."

"I'll show you angry, idiot," he snapped, stalking into the kitchen. Took him less than thirty seconds to find the candy stash, and he snagged a bag of Peanut M&Ms. Dark chocolate. He ripped them open as he returned to Gabe. "Start eating."

"Yes, sir," Gabe said with a smirk, but fairly pounced on the bag.

"Dean?"

Oh, shit. Sammy. "Yeah?"

"Something you want to tell me?"

"Um, no?"

"Because that looks a lot like the Trickster you killed."

"Ah, yeah, about that. …"

"And he just put a wedding ring on your finger."

"Umm. …"

Gabe huffed. "Well, ya see, Sammy, when a pretty boy like Dean meets a sexy god like me, unexpected things happen."

"Shoot me now," Dean muttered, then glared at Gabe. "Don't help." Sighing, he turned his attention back to his 'obviously considering getting pissed' brother. Shit. "Umm. …"

Sam folded his arms over his chest. Well, the uninjured one. The other sort of twitched like it wanted to go for it, but opted not to. "Let's start with how he's still alive."

"Yeah, okay." That was actually the easy part. "Thing is he can't die."

Gabe nodded and pointed to himself. "God. Immortal. Accept no substitutes."

This might have been more convincing if his stupid husband didn't look halfway through death's door.

Sam looked unconvinced. "Bobby said it could be done."

"Minions," Gabe said with a shrug. "Not so immortal." Sam looked unconvinced, and Gabe rolled his eyes. "Fuck it, this is taking too long." He gestured.

Sam blinked, frowned, blinked again, then fixed Dean with a scowl. "You said I was a wuss, not a total dick."

Huh? "Gabe, what did you do?"

"Filled in the blanks for him, including what happened on our mutual acid trip."

Dean blushed hot. "All of them?"

Gabe smiled and shoveled another handful of candy into his mouth. "Well, I left out the best parts like how smokin' you looked in those blue satin panties."

Dean groaned, sank to the floor and hid his face in his hands. Maybe if he got really lucky the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"Dean?"

No such luck. Maybe if he didn't answer they would all go away.

"Where's Bobby?"

What? He looked up and for the first time noticed Bobby hadn't made the trip to wherever here was with them. "Gabe?"

A look of real regret crossed his husband's face. "I'm sorry, baby, but I'm not strong enough right now to run a full show, so he's got to take up the slack for me."

"Show?"

"It's very important some powerful beings believe Sam's dead and you're drinking yourself into a coma. Bobby's making that all seem real by mourning and worrying. Leaves me free to keep everyone thinking Sam's spirit is clinging to fake-you instead of heading off to heaven or hell. Not to mention hiding all of us."

Dean stared at him. Then went to get more candy.

*

They spent the next few hours figuring it all out. Gabriel listened quietly as Sam told them about what had happened in Cold Oak while keeping a more omniscient eye on Bobby. As they talked Dean kept the candy coming, sitting on the floor with his side pressed against Gabriel's left leg between trips to the kitchen. Almost cozy. If it weren't for the looming disaster. Demons had really gone over the edge this time. Given the stakes and the comments his fellow gods had made, he assumed it had something to do with trying to free Lucifer. Meant plans within plans. With a few dozen schemes sprinkled on top. Fucking near-immortal minions. Always trying to muck up things.

When Sam slipped off to the parlor to talk privately with Madison, Gabe ran his fingers through Dean's hair then asked, "What would you have done if Sam had really died?"

Dean shuddered. "I'm not sure. …"

Gabriel considered the man leaning against him, what he'd learned of the family and what he knew of prophecies centered around angels and demons. "You would have sold your soul for him." It wasn't a question. Grief-stricken and with a father who'd led by example it was almost inevitable.

"Yeah, I think I might have." Dean's voice was so quiet it took more than human hearing to pick up the words, but it confirmed his suspicions. The Righteous Man. He'd whisked Dean away and out of one Hell of a destiny. Pun intended. Even with the Apocalypse off the table, there were still enough pawns in play to lay waste to a good chunk of the world. No wonder the Fates had wanted him out of the way. They'd have had a field day snipping the threads on all those lives. The bitches.

He pulled on Dean's shoulders until they were curled up in the chair together. "Glad I was there to stop you."

"Me, too. But what do we do now?"

Gabriel could hear Bobby and Ellen Harvelle discussing a map of Wyoming and a series of churches built by Samuel Colt. Connected by iron railroad tracks. World's largest devil's trap. And at the center of it? A cowboy cemetery without much significance, but Gabriel knew better. Damned thing hid a gate to Hell. "I think I need more chocolate," he said. "Be a good wife and make me some brownies?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you," he muttered, but headed for the kitchen.

Gabriel watched him go, resenting every second they weren't together, but he got what he was facing now, what he'd have to do. And how likely it was he'd come through it all unscathed. Meant he had something to do before anything else happened.

He walked out onto the balcony to where Sam and Madison sat talking. They really did make a striking couple and he hoped they'd have a chance to heal together. Mostly. "I need to speak to Sam alone," he said. Didn't ask. Didn't use the sort of voice that suggested alternatives were possible.

Her eyes widened, and, after giving Sam a quick kiss on the cheek, she hurried back into the house. Once they were alone, Gabriel said, "I've got this picture in my mind. Dean and me riding around in his stupid car doing whatever makes him happy." Most likely hunting – a gross under use of his power – but Dean was a fucking hero, so heroics it was. "You're out of the picture, probably off being a useless dick of a lawyer, but he won't be happy unless you're happy so whatever." He sighed. It really was a nice vision of the future. Even had a classic rock soundtrack. Yeah, he'd go see that movie, but. …

He considered telling Sam with Gabriel along for this fight everyone was likely to survive except for the deity providing cover. Him. Sucked, but the Big Cosmic Apple Pie worked in mysterious and highly aggravating ways. That was probably the biggest proof he was a part of it, and yeah, sometimes he really hated irony. Thing was, if he told Sam, the big lug would either run to Dean or get so fucking emo over things Dean would figure it out. And they couldn't have that. Gabriel needed Dean's head in the game, not worried about him.

"What I'm trying to decide is whether or not your part of that vision ever gets to play with Dean's."

Sam's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. "He's my brother!" he snapped, his chest heaving in a manly way. All very dramatic, and utterly unimpressive to someone who appreciated the subtly of a less overtly intimidating package.

He leveled his best wrath of himself glare on Sam and demanded, "Then how about you tell me why the love of my existence thinks his brother doesn't even like him?"

*

Dean, Sam and Madison hooked up with Bobby and Ellen at the old cowboy cemetery. They all exchanged fast hugs, but Dean could tell the closest people he had to living parents both thought he'd sold his soul to resurrect Sam. He didn't correct them. Surprise was their best weapon now, and, if the Devil's Gate opened, they'd need every advantage they had. Except it wouldn't happen. Gabe would stop it.

He believed that right up to the moment Jake Tully managed to unlock the doors before Sam shot him – single bullet through the head. The locking mechanism roared and spun, Bobby's eyes grew large and his face paled. "It's Hell," he shouted. "Run!"

Dean obeyed, but what had happened to Gabe?

*

Gabriel waited and watched. The safest thing to do was stop the young soldier from even getting near the door. Safest for Gabriel. Not for the world. He could keep his Dean safe, but there was still a potential Righteous Man in hell. John Winchester. By some miracle the man hadn't broken after a year of torture. Earth standard time. In Hell time it was closer to a century. Eventually he would break, because it was Hell and everyone did. Not the favored player in the role, but still a role fulfilled. He had to get Winchester out. But the energies of Hell were incompatible with his own. He could enter without harm, but he could not do harm either. To free a captured soul would require a lot of harm. No, he couldn't go in, but that didn't make him helpless.

He watched the drama at the door play out, ready to interfere to protect the human he loved and those Dean loved in turn, but he did not need to act. Instead he waited until the doors burst open. Black smoke roiled out from the fiery heat of the Pit, and he recognized some of the demons making up those coils – Lilith and Alastair the most prominent of them.

Flinching at the very idea of how much this was going to hurt, he blocked the doorway with everything he had, cursing as a few lesser foot soldiers slipped free before he could fully brace himself. None of the worst passed him despite the power battering against his energy form. He could not have held out for long, but, as he'd hoped, the father proved as remarkable as the son, and he felt the touch of the soul he'd been waiting for. He let it slip free – the strain of weakening one part of his defenses, then restoring it before others could follow nearly ripping him apart. Something felt horribly wrong, but he held his awareness together for a few moments more. Long enough to help Bobby and Ellen shove the doors closed and to hear the locks re-engage. Then … nothing.

*

The Colt in his hand, the Yellow-Eyed Demon dead at his feet, Dean watched his father's sprit approach. Dean's eyes felt hot and a horrible weight lifted off his shoulders as Dad gripped his shoulder and looked at Dean with so much love in his eyes. His father loved him. And he was free of Hell. No longer trapped in the Pit because of Dean.

John Winchester stepped away from his sons, then with a smile he vanished into a bright light. Called a lot of lore and near-death stories to mind, but offered up no real answers. Except. It was done.

He and Sam moved over to the dead demon and stared down at him. Couldn't think of anything to say, but, "Well, check that off the 'to do' list."

"You did it," Sam said in amazement.

"I didn't do it alone."

Sam looked back toward where Dad last stood. "Do you think Dad really --? You think he really climbed out of Hell?"

Didn't seem possible, but, "A door was open. And if anyone's stubborn enough to do it, it'd be him."

Sam nodded. "Where do you think he is now?"

"I don't know." Just hoped where ever it was, he was with Mom.

Sam glanced down again. "I kind of can't believe it, Dean. I mean our whole lives … everything has been prepping for this. And now, I don't know what to say."

Dean did. He stooped down next to the body and hissed, "That was for our mom. You son of a bitch." He felt a moment's satisfaction, then a tear slipped from his eye.

"Dean?"

"I can't feel him, Sammy," he whispered.

"Gabriel?"

He nodded. "I don't know what he did, but I think it killed him."

Sam's hands closed on his shoulders, pulling him up and against the solid muscle of his brother's chest. "Maybe he just went home for more sugar?"

"No," he shook his head. "Part of him's been with me since we met." He hadn't known it until the presence was gone, but there was no other way to describe the emptiness clawing at his insides. "He's gone."

Another tear spilled, but he didn't cry. Instead he shook, aching with loss.

"I've got you," Sam said, wrapping his arms around him. "I'll take care of you. Like you always took care of me. I promise. Nothing I wouldn't do for you."

The words pushed at the coldness inside him, but he didn't really want them. Didn't want them trying to ground him when he wanted to … go. He shut them out and lost track of things. Voices – Sam and Madison probably explaining to Bobby and Ellen what had happened. Didn't really care. Instead he thought job finished; Dad free. "I'm done," he whispered.

"No, I don't believe you are." The words cut through the fog of his brain and he whirled out of Sam's arms to find they'd all suddenly popped back to Gabe's living room. A beautiful woman stood near the fireplace, her eyes dark and dangerous in a way not even the pure blackness of a demon's eyes managed.

Gabe had mentioned his former lover once or twice and Dean had no doubts this was, "Kali."

She nodded, and, holy crap! One of the destructive forces of the Hindu faith showing up in a guy's living room could not be good news. Or could it? "Where's Gabe?" he asked, fear for him overwhelming any desire he might have to mouth off at his husband's ex. "Is he-?"

"Dead? No, at least not as you understand it." She shook her head. "But he's used too much of his energies to maintain a separate consciousness in this planet's lifetime."

Pain and joy battled within him. He'd been right. Gabe was lost to him, but it didn't matter if, "He'll come back again? Be himself again?"

"Yes. Is that enough for you, little mortal? Can you live the rest of your allotted time without him?"

He didn't want to. He wanted to put a gun in his mouth and finally rest instead of living alone, but he'd never be able to do it. Couldn't hurt the people in this room that way. "Yes." His voice was soft, but firm with conviction. He'd do what he had to do and keep on killing every evil thing that crossed his path. Until one of them killed him.

She looked displeased by the answer, and he found himself shifting to stand between her and his family. Sam immediately tried to move in front of them and they almost fell into a wrestling match to keep the other safe. It seemed to amuse her. "You do have your charms, mortal. Perhaps my Loki did not choose so poorly after all."

A second figure appeared. Looked way too much like a character out of an old Marvel comic book for him not to recognize Thor. "It is done." He said it like some great pronouncement. Made him kind of come off like a douche. Except … something stirred inside Dean, pushing back against the emptiness.

"Gabe?"

Kali snorted. "I never did care for the name you bestowed on him." He bestowed?

"Gabriel into Gabe isn't exactly bestowing."

She looked bemused. "He's not told you? You, or rather your soul, gave him the name Gabriel millennia ago. Your fates have always been entwined." She said it with the same fondness one might talk about poison ivy. "In any case, Loki has a far superior ring to it."

"You're just jealous," Gabe said appearing beside her.

Her eyes narrowed. "A modicum of gratitude might be in order. We did plead with the godhood to sacrifice a part of all of us to restore you."

He rolled his eyes. "Comes under the heading of the least you can do for messing with my energy in the first place. Now go away before I forget you did it out of love and I say something it'll take a few millennia for us all to forgive."

She glared. Thor scowled, then they both vanished along with the energy keeping Dean upright. His knees gave way, but his husband scooped him up before he could hit the floor, then plopped them both down on the sofa.

Dean kissed him before Gabe could say anything, then kissed him a couple more times for good measure. Made Gabe laugh against his lips, and finally Dean had to draw back to state the obvious, "You're alive."

"I am." That warranted another kiss. For his being clever enough not to die and all.

Sam cleared his throat drawing Gabe's attention. The ginormous killjoy asked, "So what happens now? You go back to tricking people and visiting Dean when I'm not around."

Make that prudish, ginormous killjoy. "Nope, 'fraid you're stuck with me, bro-in-law."

That sounded promising. "What?"

"I've got my consciousness back and enough power to impress the rubes in the cheap seats, but it'll still be a good two-three hundred years before I'm back in the grove." He shamelessly groped Dean. "I'm going to have to content myself with sexing you up while the minions do all the work."

Ellen smirked. Bobby gaped. Sam pulled a bitchface. And Dean blushed.

**Epilogue**

Gabriel walked out of the loathsome building and back into the sunshine. His sour mood vanished the moment he caught sight of the handsome young man leaning against the classic muscle car. "And what's a pretty thing like you doing out all by yourself?"

Dean lifted his sunglasses allowing Gabriel to get the full affect of his eye roll. "Did you get it?"

He grinned and held up the reward for waiting in tediously long lines and uncomfortable chairs. "I did indeed. Gabriel Winchester at your service."

A pleased smile crossed Dean's face as he took the driver's license from him. "You really did it."

He nodded. "Told you I'd take your name if you gave me long enough." Deciding he deserved a kiss for both the gesture and wading through the dredges of human bureaucracy, not to mention the terrible picture, he pulled Dean into his arms, then down into a kiss.

His pretty human melted against him. Really liked that about Dean. Total sap for a good kiss. Been a lot of those in the last few months. Lot of changes, too. He'd taken the same shortcut with Bobby and Ellen he had with Sam, sharing the djinn memories and inspiring them to hook up, so color him the Matchmaker/Trickster. Sam had gone back to Stanford with Madison. Sasquatch still wanted to be a lawyer, but he'd changed his tune on other things.

Either because Sam finally understood what a great man his brother was on his own or because Gabriel had put the fear of, well, Gabriel into him, the big goof had gotten his act together. Sam and the werewolf hunted part-time – long-weekend, holiday sort of thing – and he wanted to pursue criminal law these days with an eye on defending those who were accused of crimes committed by supernatural creatures.

No longer feeling like his baby brother was rejecting everything he stood for, Dean supported the plan, and they were on their way to California for a visit. Speaking of which. "So I'm legal now. Is it finally my turn to drive?"

Dean laughed like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, then sauntered over to the driver's door. "Give me long enough and you might get there."

Gabriel scowled, but brightened when he caught sight of the jug of chocolate sauce in the backseat. At least with Dean, life was never boring. And the bitch even let him pick the music.

end

**Author's Note:**

> This grew out of a scene I've had in my mind for a long time. One in which the Trickster stopped time and seduced Dean during their _Tall Tales._ confrontation. The rest grew from there. The only thing I've taken from Gabriel's later appearances (not to mention seasons 3-7) is his name.
> 
>  _What is and Should Never Be_ gets a total make over here, but I included the girl Dean kept seeing. She was billed as 'Near-Dead Girl' so I used the name of another character played by the actress (in a show called _Rookie Blue._ ) I did love WIASNB, but I didn't want to try and recreate it so I went a totally different route right down to what Dean does and does not know. I also corrected what I've always seen as the one 'error' of the episode. In it Dean's 'phantom' family said he'd feel like he'd lived a long life with them despite his protests that he would die in days if he stayed. Given it had to take Sam at least an hour to track Dean down, for the wish-time to have the sort of distortion implied Dean should have thought he was with them for months if not years before he stabbed himself. So the wish sequence here lasts a year.


End file.
